A Game of Chance
by Season4.5
Summary: Futurefic. Maneuvering a remote control and being on Headline News is the least of the worries Rory and Tristin have to face on the day they actually reunite. Stranger things have happened after a six year hiatus! TRORY. Rating due to language.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

_Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls, its contents, characters (with the exception of Amy, Jackie and Katherine) and (most) situations (more importantly the history of the main characters) are the property of WB, Amy and Daniel Palladino, its writers, directors and producers. The fanfic situations used were borrowed from within the series and were not meant to be spoilers or be meant as gospel. Hope you enjoy the story!_

Things he hated first thing in the morning: hangovers, doing the walk of shame, gray skies…

Marilyn Manson interrupting his comatose state.

He groaned and put the pillow over his ear. However, the goth sound of 'Tainted Love' reverberated in the still room.

He cursed the wretched song. He thought it would be funny to associate the song with his life when shit hit the fan. Whatever was rose-colored and perfect was actually a mirage.

At nine in the morning, he knew that his day was starting on a sour note.

He lifted his head from the soft, goose-down pillow. Scanning the dimly lit room, he realized his state of undress, quickly followed by the presence of a similarly unclad female next to him. He lifted the sheets. No underwear. Not that it meant anything significant. His idea of pajamas was his birthday suit. The fact that there was a girl in his bed, perhaps random, scared him more.

He did not remember her.

He stared in bewilderment at her dark locks that fell unceremoniously from her shoulder to her back. She was oblivious to his state of dread.

The room smelled of fresh-cut roses and vanilla. Did he have the room set up? Why doesn't he remember a thing? God, why did he feel like he had to impress a stranger? Did they…?

His heart pounding, he scanned the room quickly for a sign of responsibility: a condom, even if it was just a torn wrapper. At least he would know that despite his state of stupidity, he would've protected himself from potential trouble.

However, the jarring tones of the mobile just made him abandon the search momentarily. Picking up his trousers off the floor, he walked to the bathroom and answered the phone.

"What have you done?" the male voice at the end of the line was tainted with a glint of anger and confusion.

He distanced the cell phone from his ear before his eardrums burst. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the stunt you pulled last night. God, I thought when you said you needed time away, I was thinking about you getting holed up in a cabin in Montana. Not this! This will be a PR nightmare that would be hard to spin."

"Adrian, Adrian, calm down," he grumbled, rubbing his head with his thumb and forefinger. "Whatever it is, we can fix it."

"This isn't college, you know," Adrian pointed out. "This isn't a 'my-bad' moment that that the bigwigs would easily forget."

"Have I ever not been able to deliver the goods?" Tristin was pretending like he knew what he was talking about. The fact that he had done something so wrong that it might jeopardize his career was still unfathomable.

"I hope you're right for your sake," Adrian grumbled back. "You've just handed them the nail to seal your coffin!" He took a deep breath before continuing on. "Have you seen it yet?"

"No," he replied cautiously. He still didn't know what his lawyer-slash-friend was referring to at this point.

"Headline News, now," he ordered.

He located the remote that was neatly propped up against a remote holder close to the porcelain bathtub. Turning on the TV, he watched in amazement at an event he never thought would ever happen to him.

Kelly Wallace was running down the thirty-minute rotation of news when the Business and Entertainment segment was being prepped. He saw a glimpse of himself right before the advertisements came on.

Suddenly, his heart did a flip. He knew things couldn't be good if the news had made the Time-Warner Corporation rounds. The fact that Adrian Faulkner asked him an account of his whereabouts in a time zone three hours behind the Philadelphia corporate office made things a little harder to digest after a night of heavy drinking.

"In Business News, the most eligible bachelor, Tristin DuGrey, had finally taken himself out of the dating pool. As reported by the Smoking Gun, he was seen taking off for the Penthouse suites at the Palms Casino in Las Vegas after he was seen leaving the Graceland Wedding Chapel in a limousine with a brunette that is presumed to be is his bride. Tristin DuGrey is the new CEO of Velocity Enterprises, the Fortune 500 company depended upon when it comes to the latest and greatest in aeronautical flight…."

Tristin's heart pounded fast and hard against his ribcage.

No, it just couldn't be.

Switching his cell phone from his left hand to his right, he gazed at the cheap gold band that circled his left ring finger.

He was fucked.

"Tristin, are you still there?" Adrian asked.

A beat passed before he responded. "Yeah."

"Should I…" Adrian's voice trailed.

"Yeah. Make sure it's ready by tomorrow," he decided. "And Adrian? I'm forwarding all my calls to you. Tell the board nothing."

Just like that, he hung up.

He tossed the mobile on the marble countertop and watched it careen off the sink's basin. Sighing, he slumped up against the cold stone and tried to figure out a way out of his current bind.

From the look of things, he was hosed.

---oooo0---0ooooo------

She could barely move.

Not that today was any different than any other morning in her entire life. Only this time, she felt like the Hulk was sitting on her chest and pounding on her head at the same time.

The shrill trilling of her cell phone did not help either.

It wasn't everyday that she got an assignment out of the east coast. The three-day stay in Las Vegas was more than a welcoming thought. She needed the change of scenery, not to mention weather and people. So when she found out that her best friend, Lane Kim, and her new band, Wicked Distortion, were invited to the Independent Rockers Convention she had to justify to her boss that there had to be a story to be had in Vegas.

"_As long as it's fresh and smart. We don't have the funds to send you to fancy trips," Jackie reminded her._

"I don't wanna!" she yelled as she pressed the pillow against her mouth in frustration, the mobile ringing for the millionth time.

All she wanted was sleep… And a bottle of aspirin. Come to think of it, she also needed water; a ton of it.

The ring persisted.

Rory pretended not to hear the annoying sound, but she knew Jacqueline Goodman, her boss and one of her few friends outside of Yale, would persist.

"Agh!" she cried out in frustration.

Propping herself up with her elbows, she felt the room swirl. Trying to swallow the taste of bile, she closed her eyes, counted to ten, and inhaled deeply. The nausea subsided until she realized her state of undress.

"God, I can't be that drunk," Rory mumbled loudly to herself.

She knitted her eyebrows, trying to think of what happened the night before. All she remembered was a palm reading, some really heavy drinking, and….

Again, the ring jarred the quietness of the room.

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw her discarded outfit scattered haphazardly on the floor. She knew she rarely did that. The fact that her lacy underwear was strewn between the couch and the bed made her feel uncomfortable. The thought of her pulling a _Risky Business_ move of shaking her money maker in nothing but her underwear made her cringe.

"No more tequila," Rory grumbled. Grabbing the annoying device, Rory croaked into the mouthpiece, "Hello?"

"Tell me you have the scoop. Please!" her editor-in-chief pleaded.

"What are you talking about, Jackie?" she mumbled. She stared at the bedside table. The clock illuminated nine-oh-three. "It's just a little past nine."

"Nine?" Jackie screeched. "Honey, it is noon, east coast time. News happens fast when you're on your back."

"I'm not on my back," she replied. "I happen to be on my stomach."

She could feel Jackie's eyes rolling at her.

"I have no time for games, Rory," Jackie scolded. "I was so hoping you'd have the exclusive. It would catapult the sale of our magazine!" Jackie replied, her voice getting pitchy as she hyperventilated. Then, Rory heard her friend's head thump against the hard paneling of her desk when she finally inhaled.

"I may have a scoop if you actually tell me what you're talking about," she replied, pulling the bed sheets against her as she walked toward the window.

"Are you close to a TV?" Jackie asked.

"Uh-huh."

"Turn it on to Headline News," she ordered. "I know that the Graceland Chapel right now is teeming with wannabe journalists trying to scoop out the latest unknown to claim the most eligible bachelor…."

Jackie's voice disappeared into the background as she fumbled with the buttons of the remote control. The images that danced in front of her somehow woke her up from her reverie.

It wasn't enough that Kelly Wallace's perky east coast eleven o'clock voice was irritating her. The fact that the golden boy in front of her reminded her of days she would prefer to forget and a moment she now regretted forgetting.

"The guy…." Jackie mumbled on.

"Is Tristin DuGrey," she finished the sentence for her.

"Yeah," Jackie replied. "I hear he's a big shot who got married last night, and from the description, it's not his latest toy, Katherine Lloyd. I need you to find out who he married."

Her heart did a somersault as she recognized the outfit on the screen. She looked at the clothes that covered the floor. She gasped as she saw the figure disappear into a limousine.

Not trusting herself, she raised a shaky left hand to her face. A simple gold band adorned her ring finger.

"Rory, are you still there?"

Taking a big gulp, her quivering voice responded, "I know who married Tristin DuGrey."

Without saying goodbye, she dropped the device as she realized what just happened. Like a zombie, she slowly walked to the side of the bed, hoping it would stop her from shaking.

What a way to wake up in the morning. The hangover, she could take. The nausea in the pit of her stomach, she could handle.

Realizing that she married her nemesis of years best forgotten: unforgivable.

Her eyes scanned the room once more. Picking up on clues that would have told her she didn't spend the night alone in this room, she started to wonder. Where was he? Did he realize what he had done and fled the room? She should've realized that the suite was expensive and exclusive; something definitely unlike the Hotel Ramada she occupied the last couple of days with Lane.

The sworn never-to-be married Rory Gilmore was now the newly anointed Missus DuGrey.


	2. From Britney to Kenny

CHAPTER 2

_**A/N:** Thanks for the lovely response. Yes, it sounds like it had been done before but give it a chance. The ride just started._

_Anyway, Anna Marie, here's the explanation to your question. According to the scripts, books and the credits, Chad Michael Murray played Tristin DuGrey. Yet he'd evolved into Tristan in the fandom world since in spellcheck, the list corrects the spelling of the name from an I to an A. However, I am a purist who remains to write the character as how ASP wrote his name originally. _

_Lastly, to the Ickle Gals. Thanks for helping me find a way to end this chappie._

Tristin tried to regain control of his breathing.

Not now. He stared at the ceiling, frustrated.

He had just gotten his job, and he was not ready to give it up. Not yet. He still had to prove that he could do it. He couldn't have his Old Man laugh at his face.

The bastard.

How could someone dead still have the last laugh?

He could still hear his dad's voice in his head, mocking him. "You won't amount to anything, son," he'd say.

The fact that he croaked from a heart attack three months ago, leaving the business to him, was rather surprising. Alexander DuGrey was a shrewd businessman, however. With his current predicament, his father's friends, or vultures, as he'd prefer calling them, Tristin could see himself losing this battle for control before it even got started.

What's her name? Nicole? Amber? How could he be married to someone and not know her name?

Carrie, that's what it was! Carrie Bradshaw, like the _Sex and the City_ show Katherine loved watching.

There still might be a loophole.

With renewed enthusiasm, he walked out of the bathroom in hopes to have his newly wedded wife still be in bed or scared so shitless that she would've walked out of the room.

The feeling was short lived. Luck apparently wasn't on his side today. Or maybe in Vegas in general.

He was greeted with the image of her sitting on her side of the bed, her naked back toward him. She stroked her shoulder, kneading the tense muscles. He knew she knew. The TV was on, and from the look of things she didn't realize what kind of trouble she just inherited.

"Look…." he started saying.

"Don't say anything, Tristin," she whispered. He caught the sound of her voice on the verge of tears.

"Well, that's a start," he sarcastically snorted, hesitant as to how to approach the delicate nature of their dilemma. "At least you know my name."

Rory turned around and watched him saunter toward his coat. "Do you remember last night at all?"

"Does the fact that I only found out a few minutes ago that I was married prove to you that I know nothing about last night?" he countered.

Rory shot him a cold stare as she gingerly got up from the bed and walked toward the farthest wall of the room. "I don't want to be married to you. We can get an annulment."

"On what grounds?" he asked. He scanned her from head to toe as she fidgeted with the sheet she clutched against her chest. "From the look of things, we've, ah, consummated the marriage."

"The state of having sex does not make a marriage!" Rory pointed out loudly, blushing at the thought that they may have copulated.

"Lower your voice, I can hear you, you know," he yelled back before realizing that his own voice made his head pound. "We still might get out of this marriage, you know. If we can prove that fraud was actually involved, we can dissolve this marriage."

"Great, we're moving right along from pulling a Britney to pulling a Kenny. It's nice to know you're still Satan's spawn."

Tristin looked at her in disbelief. "What do you have to say for yourself, Carrie? Huh? Even the name is bogus." He paused to look at her. "You're better suited as a Charlotte, by the way."

Rory blanched at his statement. Carrie? She closed her eyes in remembrance. Flashbacks rushed into her head. She recalled that she used an alias the night before to try out her little experiment.

"Just because I am a brunette doesn't make me Charlotte," she argued. "Anyway, I didn't come to Vegas in search of the infamous one night stand, let alone a ring on my finger!" Pacing, she said, "My mom's gonna kill me!"

Tristin looked at her, raising an eyebrow at her statement. "Great," sarcasm filled his voice. "Please tell me that you're underage. Not only would I find out that I got married to a total stranger but to a child, nonetheless. There is nothing better than having 'pedophile' as part of my resume."

Rory made an unladylike snort. "For your information, I am twenty-five." She watched him search the room. "What are you doing?"

"You don't happen to have a copy of the wedding certificate, do you?" he said, lifting and dropping pieces of clothing as he continued his search for the document.

"I thought you…." her voice trailed as Tristin led out a loud whoop.

"Found it! Found it!" he said smiling. "I have to fax this to…."

The expression on his face changed from exaltation to confusion.

"What? Anything wrong? Let's get this marriage over. I have a plane to catch in five hours," Rory said, reaching for her undergarments.

"This can't be right," he said in disbelief. "We can't… As much as you put your best effort last night to be Carrie Bradshaw, you signed a legal document… with your real name."

"What?" Rory said in disbelief. She approached him and grabbed the document from his hands, searching the document for her name. It was her legible penmanship that adorned the dotted line: Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. She paled upon realizing the ramifications of seizing the day: marriage to a stranger.

"What are you hiding from, Rory DuGrey?"

The sound of her new name sent shivers down her spine. She wished it was the bad kind of tingle. However, the quivering timber made her blush.

"I am not Rory DuGrey, damn it!" she said in annoyance.

"What, you like hyphenating it as Gilmore-DuGrey? I won't mind," he said, finding some solace in his sick sense of humor. "I just can't believe I am married to Mary. Talk about blast from the past!"

"Grow up, Tristin. This isn't Chilton, and this surely isn't a game," Rory grumbled slamming the paper down on the mahogany desk.

"Come on, Rory. You actually have to find this a little funny, if not ironic," he chuckled. "I haven't seen you in almost a decade. We could barely subsist in the same room in high school. And now, we've tied the knot, almost three thousand miles away from hell, without even batting an eyelash."

"That's the problem," she argued. "It was over several eyelash bats…. More of the permanent, half-open, beer goggle glasses," she said in annoyance.

"So what's your excuse for being in the Sin City?" he prodded, amusing himself with her struggle to get dressed with the bed sheet protecting her modesty.

"Definitely not to snag a husband, let alone the most elusive, oh, excuse me, obnoxious bachelor," Rory stated, abandoning all efforts to put on her underwear and slipping into her suit that smelled of stale alcohol and cigarettes.

"See? We already sound like a married couple. You bickering and insulting me…." he trailed.

"Can it, DuGrey," Rory hissed.

"My, my. If I am not mistaken, it sounds like you've gotten some hands- on training from Paris Geller," he continued teasing.

Rory grumbled. "Is that your best material? Wow, I wonder how long it's going to take you to make a company go under."

"Touché!" he replied. "Again, you've done your homework, Gilmore, and I know diddly squat about you."

"Tristin, I'm going to make this short and succinct just for you. I know you're going to make a wonderful husband, if not a lover, to someone someday. It just won't be to me in this lifetime or the next. So once you figure something out, let me know. Excuse me, but I really have to get going," Rory huffed as she donned on her shoes.

Tristin pinched the bridge of his nose, rummaging through his brain what he could do to remedy the situation. Unfortunately, he knew what he had to do.

"You can't go anywhere, Rory," he sighed in defeat. "Not yet."

"To hell I can't! Watch me," she dared.

"Rory, right outside the hotel lobby are reporters, paparazzi that will have you for breakfast," he reminded her.

The blood on Rory's face drained quickly. How could she forget? She is part of that demographic. She slumped back into the bed and closed her eyes. If it weren't for the dull thumping in her brain right now, she'd find a way out of this place.

"Come on, Rory, it can't be too bad," he said, as if he was trying to convince himself of the lie. "Let's have breakfast, and we'll talk about it."

"Easy for you to say," she groaned. "You don't have to check out and catch a plane in five hours."

In attempts to smoothen out the rough patch they just both discovered, Tristin picked up the phone. "Where were you staying?"

"The Ramada?" Rory volunteered the information.

"Ramada? Rory, you are in Vegas. Why didn't you stay at least somewhere half decent?"

"It was decent," she countered. "Not everyone in Vegas is here for gambling, you know."

Tristin hushed her as the receptionist on the other end picked up.

"Hi, this is Tristin DuGrey… Hi. I was wondering if you could arrange that my wife be checked out and her belongings be delivered to the suite? Yes, the name's Gilmore and she is checked in at the Ramada. Wonderful. An hour, you said? Thank you, Casey. Yes, please charge it to my account."

Rory watched the transaction take place. Slack-jawed, she was impressed with how he handled things with a snap of his fingers.

"How about my flight?" she inquired skittishly.

"Not tonight, Sweetie. Not tonight."

----oooo0---0oooo------

Rory paced the room as they waited in tense silence for breakfast to arrive.

"Do you want me to call your mom?" Tristin offered.

"Why?" Rory asked.

"It's the least I could do," he said.

"Thanks," Rory squinted at him. "I think I can do this on my own."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked again.

"Damn it, Tristin. Don't be so chivalrous. It's unbecoming," Rory replied testily.

"Fine," Tristin said, grabbing her cell phone.

"What are you doing?" Rory wailed.

Tristin just eyed her as he flipped through her call list. It wasn't a surprise that her mother was on top of the call list.

"Hi, is this Mrs. Gilmore?" he asked.

From the look on Tristin's face, Rory knew her mother was talking at breakneck speed, worried and probably surprised.

"No, no, she's fine… Yeah, here she is," he replied, handing her the phone. "Yikes!" was all he said.

"Mom?" Rory's voice came over the phone.

"Alright, spill," Lorelai said. "Why is a man calling me?"

"Because he doesn't have an ounce of smartness in him," she commented. Tristin shot her a dirty look.

"So, is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Rory fidgeted.

"That wasn't so resounding," Lorelai said. "So, am I still picking you up from the airport? You know how much I love buying the Hartford junk."

"About that," Rory replied.

"Uh-oh," Lorelai said.

"Yeah. Uhm, I'm not going to make it tonight," she said.

"What do you mean? I thought you were spending a week with me before going driving back to New York?" Lorelai asked in protest.

"Well, I hit a snag here in Vegas," Rory stated.

"Oh no. Don't tell me that the guy over the phone is a cop! I can't relive this again, kiddo," Lorelai started panicking.

"No, no! It's nothing like that!" Rory quickly added. "It's just…."

"It's just what?" Irritation was seeping in through Lorelai's voice.

"It's just that… Are you seated?"

"Should I be?" Lorelai prodded.

"Mom… I just got married," Rory braced herself.

"What!" Lorelai screamed. "You cannot be serious!"

"I know, I know. I just didn't want you to find out about it on TV," Rory said apologetically.

"Ro-roh. TV? Are you caught on _Girls Gone Wild_ or something?" Lorelai asked. "Because I'm sorry, my daughter, the sane one, would've not at all gone to Vegas to elope or get married to a man mommy won't approve of."

"Calm down, Mom," Rory started panicking herself. What was she supposed to say?

"Calm down? Rory, who did you marry? Why?"

"I'll explain when I get back," Rory said. "But for now, do not tell Grandma and Gramps."

"Easier said than done, Daughter. What happened?" Lorelai calmed herself long enough to realize what had just transpired.

"Mom, I'll tell you when I get back to town," Rory said, rubbing her forehead. "I promise you full detail information when I've digested the information myself."

Lorelai could be heard pacing at the other side of the phone. "I can't promise you anything, but you have to tell me what happened. Promise me that you're not in trouble?"

Rory quickly looked at Tristin as he answered the door to let room service in. "I don't think I am. Love you, Mom."

"Love you back, Babe. Just call me, okay?"

"I will," Rory replied before hanging up.

As soon as Tristin pulled up a chair for her to seat on, she said, "I hope you know what you're doing, DuGrey."

"You'll be the first one to get the memo when I figure it out," he said without much conviction. "Butter?"


	3. Headaches and Sacrifices

CHAPTER 3

Corporate offices gave Rory the willies. It was no different when she got ushered into Velocity Enterprises' magnificent boardroom. It was cold. It was unfriendly. Somehow, she got the distinct feeling that the figurines on the wall would move like in the horror movies she watched.

She was supposed to meet with Adrian Faulkner. Tristin said to trust him.

What was she supposed to say?

All she knew at this point is that she wanted to go home and forget this awful nightmare. But where was home?

She dared not ask this question the day before, after Tristin decided to drop the issue after breakfast. Realistically, neither of them spoke to each other about the incident since they shared the meal. He was on the phone for at least three hours. She slipped through the back door and found a way to escape to the Fashion Mall at the strip unrecognized.

He was right. Paparazzi of all shapes and colors camped out at the lobby. She felt bad for them just because they were waiting for their big break, and she knew they were not going to get it. She had to give it to Tristin. He knew what he was doing.

Last night, if there was anything she was rather surprised about, it was the fact that Tristin let her have the bed. He didn't mind sleeping on the couch.

It was rather disturbing (or considerate, however one views their situation) that he sent himself to the doghouse without her sending him there.

That was the only reason why she didn't press her luck by telling him to dissolve the marriage.

She watched him from the comfortable leather chair she sat on. He was tenser than the day before. He paced. He ran an impatient hand through his hair. He spoke to a man she assumed was Adrian like they were in an argument.

That didn't bode well with her.

Even through the shut glass doors, she knew whatever was happening was big, and she couldn't help but wonder why she felt like she's part of the problem. Tristin didn't want to go into detail about it on the flight over to Philadelphia.

"It will explain itself," was all he stated.

Her fingers patted the top of her head until she reached the tight bun. Although she remembered almost cementing her hair in place, the thought of a stray strand sticking out made her self-conscious.

Rory fidgeted as she watched Tristin and Adrian pace back and forth. She couldn't bear to see what they were up to.

"Sorry about that," Tristin said as he plastered a weary smile on his face, walking through the door like he probably had done a thousand times. "I didn't think we'd take this long."

"It's okay," Rory said, standing up and directing her attention to the stranger, "Hi, I'm Rory Gilmore."

"Nice meeting you. I'm Adrian Faulkner," he replied, smiling genuinely at her as he took her extended hand to shake. "I echo Tristin's apologies."

"So now that I've met you…." Rory tried to push the situation along.

"Oh yes," Tristin said, pulling Rory's seat back for her to settle in.

There was something off. She noticed Tristin being more overwrought than he already was. Something was up, and she was getting more agitated by the minute not knowing what was happening. She felt the electricity emanate from Tristin. She just wished she knew why.

"So now that we've dispensed with the formalities," Rory teased nervously.

Without smiling, Adrian said, "I am hoping you're aware of the reason why you're here?"

Rory gazed at the man stoically, "Why don't you humor me?"

Tristin coughed up the laugh that tried to escape his lips. "Rory, there's no easy way to say this…."

"Then spit it out, and let's get it done and over with. I still have a life, you know," Rory said, bracing herself for the upcoming bad news. She closed her eyes, realizing she was a little abrupt in addressing her spouse and his aide.

"Ms. Gilmore," Adrian cautiously said, shifting his eyes between her and Tristin, "as you are currently Mr. DuGrey's spouse, you are to be served with this document that holds you accountable to Mr. DuGrey as a partner."

"A document?" she asked in confusion.

"It's like a pre-nup, only it isn't," Adrian added.

Rory looked at Tristin for a moment, like she was waiting for him to give her a sign. "I don't understand."

"Rory," Tristin said her name softly as he pulled a chair next to her and took her hands into his. "Remember when I said it will explain itself? This is it."

Adrian launched into his spiel. "Prior to Alexander DuGrey's demise, it had been written in his will that when Tristin DuGrey becomes the President of Velocity Enterprises, he has to commit himself to this company and its shareholders and make the establishment his primary responsibility. The moment he commits himself legally to a spouse, she, in return becomes part of the Corporation. To the effect, you, as his spouse, would have to remain married to Tristin to a minimum of a year as a sign of loyalty to the business. At any time either party strays from the relationship, you would be found fraudulent as a couple, and all holdings Tristin has to Velocity Enterprises will be dissolved and distributed evenly to the remaining nine main shareholders of the company. At the same time, Tristin renounces all rights to the company.

"In the event that you remain married to Tristin the whole year, all gifts and monies given to you are considered yours to keep. Upon dissolving the marriage a day after the year of marriage, you are in no means obligated to keep relations with Mr. DuGrey, or his company. Whatever tangible items he decides to give to you during the divorce will be up to his sole discretion. You are not allowed, after the divorce proceedings, to sue for more than a lump sum scheduled to be awarded to you after full disclosure of both parties' annual earnings."

Rory stared at Adrian Faulkner, gawking. Did she hear him right?

She was about to question him when a group of men in dark suits entered the confines of the cool room.

"Mister DuGrey, what a pleasure," a thin, balding man approached Tristin like an animal stalking its prey. "I thought you would be taking some time off with your bride."

Rory stood, feeling a state of discomfort as the man leered at her. Tristin cupped her shoulders, gave her a quick squeeze before presenting her.

"In due time, Marc," Tristin said candidly. "Rory and I were just making quick arrangements for our trip later on this month, right, Hon?"

Rory nodded in mute agreement.

"Marc Lott, I'd like you to meet my wife, Rory Gilmore- DuGrey."

"Gilmore, eh?" Marc took her hand and kissed it. "Any relations to the Gilmores of Texas?"

"No," Rory said with confidence. "Connecticut."

Mr. Lott raised his eyebrows, sneering.

"Rory, why don't you take a seat in the lobby. I'll be out with you in a moment," Tristin softly said in her ear.

She collected the manila folder that lay open in front of her before they were interrupted by the gaggle of men in black.

"I'll be waiting," she said sweetly. There were only few ways to convey affection to someone whose life has just been revealed as a painful façade.

Without thinking, she kissed him briefly on the cheek. As she was about to pull away, he grabbed her hand lightly and gave her a lingering kiss on the lips.

"Thank you," he whispered before letting her go.

She smiled and excused herself from the room.

She had barely left the area when she heard the group of men start talking all at the same time, berating Tristin with personal questions about the wedding and its effect on the stock, the face of the company and the impending doom his marriage brought to the company.

Rory was astounded at the mean streak the men had, verbally assaulting him on something that could have happened to any of them.

With shaking knees, she walked to the nearest couch, right in front of a secretary typing away furiously on the keyboard.

The girl did not even bother looking up from the screen.

"You're not going to last."

"Excuse me?" Rory's heart beat faster as she looked up from the documents her eyes were transfixed upon.

"You're not Mr.DuGrey's type," she continued on, still tapping away.

Rory did not know whether to take her statement as an insult or a compliment.

"It's not your fault," she continued on. "It's just, Mr. DuGrey likes his women blonde and leggy."

"Really?" Rory replied as she stared at the nameplate on her desk. "How would you know this, Amy Richards?"

She stopped pecking on the keyboards and took off her glasses to focus on Rory.

"I've been his secretary for the past year. I used to be his father's secretary three years before that."

"And that makes you an expert on the DuGrey men?" Rory egged her on.

"More than you'll ever be," she said haughtily.

Just as Amy made that statement, voices from the far corridor could be heard.

"Miss Lloyd, Miss Lloyd!" a male voice reverberated anxiously.

In came through the doors the infamous Katherine Lloyd. Stunning at almost six feet tall and dressed in the latest Dolce & Gabbana line she modeled for, she looked like she just jumped out of the latest _In Style_ magazine. Her golden hair shimmered and bounced, defying gravity unlike the rest of the mortals. Legs that could go for miles, covered in expensive Italian soft, leather high-heeled boots, pounded on the Berber carpet-covered floors purposefully.

"Miss Lloyd, you're not allowed through there," Amy got up from her desk to stop the model from entering the conference room.

"Watch me," she said through her clenched jaw.

She left the room with the lingering scent of Light Blue and anger.

----oooo0---0oooo------

He didn't want to see her hurt. He didn't care if his dad screwed with his life, but he wasn't going to start involving someone else in his version of hell if he could prevent it.

"It's smart that you've brought her here with you," Adrian said, matching Tristin's stride as they closed into the conference room.

"I didn't know what else to do," Tristin admitted.

"You know, the board members came in early. It's not a good sign," Adrian confided.

"God, they are definitely my Old Man's cronies," Tristin snorted. "The body's not cold yet, and they're feasting on my dad's carcass."

Amy Richards, Tristin's secretary, just entered the sitting area and was surprised to see her boss and his best friend milling around. Tristin nodded to her in acknowledgement. "Hold all my calls?"

"Definitely, Mr. DuGrey," Amy said, smiling. "Coffee?"

"Three cups," Tristin added.

"Three? Upping the caffeine intake?" Amy inquired.

"I have a guest in the conference room," Tristin said.

"Oh," Amy replied, surprised. "I didn't know we had an early conference today. I wasn't informed to come in early."

"Don't worry about it," Tristin beamed her a tired smile. "It's just my wife…."

Wife. The word just rolled out of his tongue. It still felt weird, no matter how many times he said it, but he knew he needed to remember the script to keep his business going.

"Oh," the sound of disappointed carried in Amy's voice.

"Tristin, we have to get moving," Adrian reminded him. "The moment the members find out you and your wife are in the building..."

Amy left the two in privacy. She mumbled something intelligible. Adrian just chuckled. "I think you just crushed her dreams."

Tristin laughed. "You're just imagining things."

"If I am, don't wake me up," Adrian said. His mind was already off Amy and had focused on Rory. "She's beautiful. I can see how you could marry her, drunk or otherwise."

Tristin followed Adrian's gaze. She sat in the oversized leather chair, quiet and obviously in deep thought. She looked sad. God, what had he done?

"Are you sure there's no way to get Rory out of this?" Tristin asked.

"She can't be that bad," Adrian said. "Besides, this can help you put some distance from Katherine."

"Shit, I still have to talk to Kat," Tristin sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Do you think she knows?"

"I won't be surprised if she's not clawing her way to you right now," Adrian replied.

"I don't need this right now," he groaned. Refocusing, he looked at Rory. "Again, is there no way Rory and I can get an annulment or a divorce without giving up control?"

"Nope. Senior really wanted to stick this to you," he grumbled, looking at the papers he drew the night before, exhausting all the loopholes before telling Tristin what limited options he had.

There was some hesitancy in Tristin's voice. Adrian was curious.

"Do you think she won't go with the plan? She a gold digger?"

"She's far from the gold-digger type. I just think the ramifications are going to be worse at her end," he confessed.

"It's not like you're going to be losing chump change, dude. You're losing your livelihood," Adrian reminded him.

It was true. Although he despised his father, the company he passed on to him was great. He loved it. In fact, it was the only motivator he had to wake up in the morning since the day his mother passed away in his junior year of college.

Adrian noticed her blue eyes settle on them, "I think she's waiting."

"Let's get this done and over with."

Striding into the room, Tristin wanted to just take Rory in his arms and hug her. It was not out of comfort. He just wanted to extend his sympathies. This was his problem, and she was getting dragged into it.

He watched her gracefully introduce herself to Adrian. He made a mental note to ask Rory how she would want to be introduced. He couldn't be too presumptuous with her.

He could barely speak or look at her when there was a look of fear in her face as Adrian listed off her duties as a DuGrey spouse. He never thought that he'd see a girl, no, a woman, cringe at the fact that they were married to him.

"Mister DuGrey, what a pleasure," Marc Lott's booming voice filled the room. "I thought you would be taking some time off with your bride."

A chill ran down Tristin's spine. Reassuring himself, and hopefully calming her down, he squeezed her shoulders before helping her out of her seat.

"In due time, Marc," Tristin said candidly. "Rory and I were just making quick arrangements for our trip later on this month, right, Hon?"

He had no clue what he was saying. He just said a silent prayer and hoped she would play along.

"Marc Lott, I'd like you to meet my wife, Rory Gilmore- DuGrey." There goes the "w" word again. Maybe practice makes perfect.

Without missing a beat, Rory held her own without any assistance. Playing the role of dutiful wife, she picked up the papers from the table, making sure that Marc or the other vultures had not read their contents, and walked out of the room without making a fuss.

Until she kissed him.

Tristin did not know whether this was still part of the act or if this was a kiss of gratitude, letting her off the hook so he could deal with the barracudas alone.

"Thank you," was all he could mutter.

All eyes were on her when she exited. The moment her heel was out the door, the room erupted in noise.

Stocks. Bonds. Clientele. Public announcements. Embarrassment. These were words hurled in the room like it was a damned zoo.

All Tristin wanted was an aspirin. And a bed. He wanted this nightmare to disappear, at least until he had gotten more than three hours of restless sleep.

But of course, he knew that the circus act was just beginning.

"Tristin, I know you didn't run off to Vegas to just marry a hussy!" A screeching Katherine Lloyd paraded into the room.

Her signature scent of Light Blue permeated through the room, assailing each and every man's nose.

She was angry, and everyone knew it.

"Kat, not now," Tristin said as he approached her.

"I say now, damn it!" she replied heatedly, pointing her pink, elongated Dooney and Bourke purse at him.

"We are in a meeting," Adrian tried to calm her, pushing her out of the conference room.

"You can't get rid of me this easily!" she yelled as all the men watched the model claw her way back into the room. They all stared at her breasts. They all do.

She was relentless. Even through the shut glass doors, Tristin was able to witness her argue with Amy.

"I told you that you can't go in there," he heard Amy say haughtily.

"Well, when the hell did I ever care about anything you've ever said?" Katherine hurled back, smoothing her black skirt over her thighs.

"Well if you had, you would've probably gotten a better reception," Amy countered with venom.

Katherine eyed her, took a couple of steps toward the elevator doors, before pausing and turning around. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so arrogant." She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her before making her final remark. "All you get are the scraps; wishing the boss would throw you a bone, right, Amy?"

Security was waiting for her by the elevators. One of the bigger bodyguards had the misfortune of grabbing Katherine by the arm. Almost automatically, the heel of her boot dug into the leather-clad shoe of the guard, making him crouch in agony.

"Touch me again and I'll make sure that it isn't only your toes that will be hurting," she hurled at the man before the doors closed on her.

Tristin didn't know how long he held his breath. Not once did Kat look at Rory. Not once did she threaten her. Maybe this was his sign.

Excusing himself from the room, he went to the lounge area, giving both Rory and Amy a quick survey. Quickly, he motioned toward Amy and gave her a big hug.

"You. Are. Precious!" he said, planting a loud kiss on her forehead.

She smiled at Tristan before shooting a grin at Rory.

--- 

Rory was just left dumbfounded. After experiencing Marc Lott give her the shivers, Amy Richards' version of the cold reality of life, and Katherine Lloyd's display of diva behavior, Rory knew she had no choice but to stick this one out.

Heck, it was only a year, and she knew she'd get more drama than any soap opera could ever conjure in three hundred and sixty-five days.

Picking up the pen, she signed the document swiftly with broad and sure strokes. Privacy and eternal condemnation be damned.


	4. The Thirty Minute Phone Tag

CHAPTER 4

"So are you going to tell me or what?" the male voice asked her over the phone.

"Why are you calling me?" Rory asked, smiling upon hearing his voice. She unconsciously rubbed her eyes from the deep slumber she'd been roused from.

"Because it's been two days since you've promised Jackie that you would give her the scoop, and you still haven't," his voice reverberated in her ear. "She said that she tried calling you several times with no luck. She said I was her only chance. God only knows what made her think I'd have better luck than her."

"Why did Jackie ask you to call me?" Rory asked the rhetorical question. She knew why. Jackie would use up all her resources first, friends or otherwise, to get the news. Jackie had reached a level of desperation she thought she'd never witness.

"Rory…." She could hear the impatience on his voice.

Rory got up from her bed and leaned her head over her cocked knee. "I know, I know. Damn, I knew I should call her… I promise… Today."

"Tick tock!" he mocked her. "Nope. She told me to not fall for that line. So, are you going to spill?"

Rory grumbled. "I'm on vacation, you know."

"Well apparently you hold the scoop of the century, and she wants an exclusive," he grumbled. She could hear him inhale the cancer stick on the other end. "I know that I need something juicy to give to Arnold so that I can get back on his good graces."

"Jess, what did you do to Arnold this time? I thought you guys called a truce?" she asked playfully. She knew that the Jess Mariano she knew would've not given his boss this kind of trouble.

"I told him to ask this girl out to dinner. It so happens she was apparently a psycho chick that went to school with him. I'll tell you the rest of the story when you come back to New York," he said, chuckling.

"Aww, poor Arnold!" Rory laughed along. "I guess you do owe the man something."

"How could I know that they would know each other from a previous life?"

"Who would've thought that we'd actually be friends?" Rory fired back.

She heard him snort on the other end. "Ours is different."

"How so?"

"Mutual understanding," Jess argued. "We became friends out of mutual respect and desperation."

"Funny you should mention that," Rory sighed, remembering how she was so desperate for a place to stay in New York that she begged Luke to give her Jess' address so she'd have a place to crash.

"It's not the scoop of the century," Rory said. "It just so happened I was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's not the Rory Gilmore I know," he said. Rory could picture the smirk that covered his face.

"Did Jackie tell you what this is about?" Rory asked.

"Just that some dude married some chick in Vegas, and that you told her you knew the mystery lady," he remarked.

"The _dude _you fondly refer to is Tristin DuGrey," Rory informed him.

"The plane dude? He's like Howard Hughes! Dad was a little nutty from what I heard," he recalled.

"Nutty is a mild description," Rory picked her words slowly. She would describe him as a classically deranged individual. "But yeah, same guy."

"So you know the broad that married him? So what? Guys like him get married at least once a year. Maybe two if he is that impetuous."

"Well, he was currently seeing Katherine Lloyd," Rory explained. She heard him whistle on the other end.

"I would've loved to see her. She has these great knock-," he got interrupted.

"I get your point," Rory rolled her eyes. "The thing is, when he was in Vegas, she wasn't there to tie the knot with him."

"I still don't get it," Jess said, inhaling the cigarette again. "So he didn't marry his girlfriend. Big deal. It happens."

"Not when the person involved is high profile," Rory suggested.

"So the question is, who was the broad he married?" Jess inquired.

"Me."

"Rory, I am not leaving this house until you tell me what happened in Las Vegas," Lorelai stood in front of her daughter's room, tapping her fingernails on her arm.

"Damn!" Rory swore under her breath. She stared at her bedside clock. It was only eight-thirty, and she was still without a coffee in her hand. Jess just hung up on her and she wasn't sure if she should check up on him or just let him digest the information on his own. How could this be called a vacation?

"Mom!" she groaned from behind the door. "Not this early!"

"Ah, the fact that you snuck into this house at two A.M. means that you are subjected to the Gilmore rule of giving up all information pertinent to any sleeping arrangements, especially the marital kind."

"There isn't such a rule!" Rory wailed, opening the door as she shrugged into her robe. She slipped her cell phone into the front pocket.

"Well one had to be made now that one of us is married," Lorelai snorted as she headed to the coffee maker to pour each of them a cup.

"Don't remind me," Rory groaned. Great. Did she say that out loud?

"Rory, should I be worried?" Lorelai put her hand on top of Rory's.

"No, no," Rory blushed. "It is just… strange."

"Strange?" Lorelai looked at her daughter.

"It's just, I never expected to be married to…," she got interrupted with the loud ringing emanating from her pocket.

Automatically, Rory answered the annoying device despite her mother's look of disapproval.

"You didn't," the female voice said in disbelief.

"I did," Rory said in response.

"Oh my God. You married Tristin DuGrey? How? Why? How?" she asked, stuttering. Jackie was still trying to take in the absurdity she had just heard.

"We met, we talked, we married," Rory said, trying to make it sound romantic despite the vagueness. She couldn't remember the walk down the line to start out with. She was not going to start gushing about something she might be questioned later on.

"It's not in the news yet. Can I go on the record with this?" Jackie asked permission.

Rory looked at her mom, who was all of a sudden working furiously over a piece of paper and some coloring pens that had been stored in the top drawer where the silverware usually was stored.

"I don't know," Rory bit her lip. "I have to ask."

"Ask who? Mr. DuGrey?" Jackie screeched.

"Yeah, Tristin," Rory replied, her heart beating extra hard. "It was his wedding too, you know."

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "Promise me I get the go the moment he says yes."

"Will do," Rory said before disconnecting her friend. "What are you doing?"

"Shh, artist at work. Some silence, please?" Lorelai stated acerbically, still working on the sign on the paper in front of her. After a few seconds, Lorelai asked, "So, who is my son-in-law?"

"Remember Tristin DuGrey?" Rory asked.

"Hmm, no. Should I?" Lorelai started attacking the paper with a glitter pen.

"Yeah, he was the creep that gave me trouble in Chilton," Rory replied, trying to sneak a peek at her mother's work.

"Hmm, doesn't ring a bell," Lorelai pretended to think.

"Mid-Dean, dance fight, blonde guy that kept on calling me Mary? You made a remark about using Biblical references," Rory gave her a snapshot of her current husband.

"And you married this winner? Why? I don't remember saying to you, _"Rory, please marry the first guy that insults you. He's the best husband material around!"_" her mother sarcastically pointed out. "All I remember from that Dean fiasco was a moment of temporary insanity that had you and the Narco sleeping in Miss Patty's studio."

"Are you upset at the fact that I got married or at the fact that I didn't do this whole marriage thing the Gilmore way?" Rory asked testily.

"No, I just want you to tell me how you could be so smart and yet so dumb when it comes to monumental decisions like this!" Lorelai replied, equally upset with her daughter. "Granted, I don't know who Tristin is despite your helpful hints in trying to dig out this miscreant from memory."

"Mom!" Rory was getting testy with the way her mom answered her.

Again, her cell phone rang.

The voice of her husband hummed on her ear, "Rory, the news is leaked. Be careful."

The warning was something she thought she was prepared for at this point. However, the reality didn't quite match the reaction her heart just took upon hearing the news.

"What do you want me to do?"

A pregnant pause followed the query. "I don't know. Where are you at right now?"

"Mom's," she said.

"Good," he sighed. She pictured him run a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm going to ask Amy to send you some information, press junket stuff."

"No, don't!" Rory said immediately. "I mean, don't have Amy send it."

"Why?" Tristin asked, concerned.

"Well," she covered the mouthpiece of her cell. "Uhm, with the arrangement…."

"Damn it," he sighed. "You're right, you're right. I've been up since four."

"Sorry," she said, wincing. She felt guilty for being part of his problem.

"Don't be," he said. "It's best that it's done now rather than later. Is there a place you can wait for my fax?"

"Yeah," she said, giving him the number to the Dragonfly Inn. "Give me about an hour, is that okay?"

"If that's the only way we can actually get our story together, yes," he said. "Still regretting this?"

Rory bit her tongue. "Nope. Now go and do what you rich people do."

"You know you're part of the circle now," he teased, lightening the somber mood.

"Can't wait to throw the first social," she giggled.

"I hope you're ready!" he chuckled. "Give me a ring when you get the documents."

"I will," she sighed before disconnecting him from her phone.

Rory turned around just to see a note held across Lorelai's chest. It was a replica of Luke's "No Cell Phones" sign posted in the diner. The expression on her face matched the scowl Luke usually put on his mug the moment the device went off in his establishment.

"I'm sorry!" Rory replied.

"So now, will you take me seriously?" Lorelai asked.

"I've been trying, Mom," Rory said. "I married Tristin DuGrey, okay? I don't really know how I actually got married to him…."

"Rory, what happened?" Lorelai put the sign down. "I knew I should've told Lane to hang out with you until you got on that plane with her."

"Mom, it's not Lane's job to baby sit me. Remember, I was the one that tagged along. Now this marriage? It's water under the bridge," Rory tried to calm her mother. "Besides, it's…."

"Rory, marriage is not a joke. It's the reason why I didn't marry your dad. It's why I didn't marry Luke."

Rory could not look at her mother. The feeling of guilt ate her from within.

"Just answer this truthfully, Kid. Are you happy?" she asked.

Rory was about to answer when her cell phone rang for the third time in the last thirty minutes. Lorelai picked up the sign she laid on the table and started pointing at it. Rory looked back at the number. She had to pick it up.

"I'm sorry," Rory apologized one more time.

"Rory? It's your grandmother," Emily haughtily responded. "What is this news I just got that you married Tristin DuGrey?"

Rory blanched at her grandmother's accusation. She looked up as Lorelai took out the roll of clear tape from the drawer, snipping off a portion of it and taped the sign on Rory's chest.

Other than witnessing her mother walk out on her with a face full of disappointment, she had to defend herself to her grandmother.

Her day really started on a sour note.


	5. Getting to Know the Gilmores

CHAPTER 5

Tristin stared at his cluttered desk. It was seven o'clock, and finally everyone was gone for the day. His mind still raced. His pulse still throbbed loudly in his ear. The eerie silence, for once, was a welcomed guest. Through it all, he got out alive and in one piece. God bless Adrian. He was a trooper, being his liaison. He, too, was grateful for Amy. Her proficiency and patience in handling whatever he threw her way was a godsend.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. He should give her a couple days off.…

He was glad he was able to deflect any questions about Rory. The only thing he could attempt to do for her at this point was to keep her out of this mess.

He stared at the phone. It had been ten hours since he last spoke to her. She tried to tell him something when she called him to let him know she got the fax.

_"Tristin, I have a favor to ask," Rory asked, almost hesitantly._

"Can it wait? I am really busy here," his reply came, curt and abrupt.

Silence.

"Alright. Just wanted to let you know that I got the papers."

"Good. I'll give you a ring later," was his final response before hanging up.

He unfolded the phone number that was in his pocket. Rory's number was almost like the other numbers he used to collect: written haphazardly on some paper napkin. The difference? There was no lipstick stain adorning the numbers.

His hand shook.

"I need to get something to eat," was all he grumbled to himself.

One ring. Two rings.

"Holy Cross Funeral Homes. Our day starts when yours ends," the chipper voice responded.

Tristin dropped the phone back on the cradle. Was he that tired?

Turning on the speakerphone, he dialed the number again.

"Body Works S&M Shop. Your pain can also be your pleasure," the same female voice came back on.

Again, he hung up. Maybe he should just try Rory's cell phone.

Giving that a ring, her voice mail picked up. In frustration, he hung up.

He leaned back on his chair, raised his feet on his table, and leaned back. If there was one thing he learned this day, it was to be glad that his façade of a marriage to Rory was now in the open. And her agreeing to it just made things a little easier to digest.

The phone rang, and he picked it up.

"Tristin Du-," he was cut off mid-sentence.

"You know, there is this cool invention where your telephone number flashes when you call," the feminine voice chattered away. "So, when you decided to hang up on me, twice, I had to find out who's been dying to prank call this house."

"I'm sorry. I think I was given the wrong number. My apologies," Tristin replied, his voice gruff and tired.

"No, no, it's okay. It's Thursday. Nothing happens in Stars Hollow on Thursdays. We might as well talk."

"No, we shouldn't," Tristin replied. He was about to hang up when he heard Rory's voice in the background.

"Mom, you have to help me," she said.

"Is that Rory?" he had to ask.

"What's it to you?" she asked.

"I'm her husband, Tristin DuGrey," he admitted.

"Oh. My. God. I am actually talking to my son-in-law?" Lorelai said in mocked intrigue.

"Is that Tristin? Mom, give me the phone!" Rory's voice was now clearer.

He could hear rustling like they were shoving each other. "No, you don't give me details. I might as well milk it from him," Lorelai said loudly.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gilmore," he stuttered. His palms got sweaty. The loose tie around his neck felt like it started constricting again. "I should've…."

"Yes, you should've!" Lorelai tried to act upset and indignant. She just hoped that her act wouldn't show that she was actually more confused with the whole situation.

"How hard was it to at least introduce yourself to me before you married my daughter?"

"I do apologize," Tristin got out of his chair and started pacing. This definitely was harder than dealing with the reporters that called him throughout the day. "However, the circumstances that Rory and I got together under were unorthodox…."

"What, she was the sacrificial virgin and you were Indiana Jones? Boy, when they said the shows in Vegas were outlandish, I thought they were only referring to Cirque du Soleil!" Lorelai exaggerated.

"Please, if I could just have a word with Rory," Tristin replied, quite unsure of how he should take his mother-in-law.

"Look, you're both at the deep end now. So, when do I get to at least meet you? Heaven knows that I should be more acquainted to you other than a grainy photo from the paper or Rory's yearbook. It gives me the willies to picture you marrying my daughter and looking sixteen at the same time."

"Mom!" Rory's exasperated tone came through the line.

"I do apologize that we haven't met," Tristin patronized Lorelai. "However, I am trying my best to clear my calendar to come and introduce myself to you in person."

Lorelai paused for a second. She didn't know how to respond to such calculated apologies.

"Fine. Make it sooner than later if you know what's best for you," she finally responded. "Here's Rory."

Tristin closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks.

"And by the way, it's Miz Gilmore to you. Not missus!" Lorelai stated quickly, making Tristin jump out of his skin.

"Hey," Rory was breathless in her response. "I'm sorry about that."

"So, tell me what to do to be in her good graces," Tristin asked, relieved that he didn't have to hear Lorelai again.

Rory laughed. "At this point, I think she'd be contented just to meet you. After that she might ask you for a shopping spree at Barney's."

"Are you for real?" he asked. "Do you know that I haven't been afraid of anyone in my entire life until I spoke to your mom when we were in Vegas? This second round just proves to me that I may not be ready to meet the parents of any person of the opposite sex any time soon."

"Don't tell me your dad never made you shake in your boots," Rory asked in disbelief.

"Not even my old man," he admitted. "She scares the bejesus out of me."

"You'll be fine," Rory tried to calm him down. "Mom's bark is just worse than her bite."

It was comforting to hear Rory say that.

"So, how are you holding up?" he asked her quietly.

"I'm fine, I guess," Rory said.

"Anyone bug you?" he inquired.

Rory thought of Miss Patty inquiring about the news of her wedding. She recalled Babette whispering to her about hearing her sudden state of matrimony. Other than that, the buzz was limited to buzz, like no one wanted to really ask her about her marriage to Tristin out of concern or fear.

"No, not really," Rory admitted. "However, I told my boss that she could run a small story about us getting married."

"You did? Why?" he asked.

"I work for the periodicals," Rory said, almost in disbelief. "Tristin, I am in journalism."

Tristin smacked his forehead. How did he not know?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized again. "I've just been…."

Rory didn't want to hear his excuse. Although she had proclaimed herself a bachelorette for life like her mother, the thought of her fake marriage not even being slightly romantic really made her wish she hadn't been such a bleeding heart to bail Tristin out of his problems.

"So, you have my undivided attention," he said, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Need cash? A vacation?"

"Grandma wants to meet you," Rory admitted. "Actually, Grandma, Gramps, Dad, and Mom for that matter, want to meet you."

"Oi vei," he grumbled.

"Yeah," she said softly.

"That's fine," he said. "How soon?"

"Friday night dinner's tomorrow," she said in a singsong voice.

"You still have that?" he asked in surprise.

"Only for special occasions," she said hurriedly. "However, if you'll miraculously be able to make it tomorrow, or any day of the week, to meet my family, I think we need to get our act together. You know, at least have a clue of what I do and what story we can come up with to make this… act more convincing."

She heard him sigh. "Sounds like a plan. How would you like to do this?"

---oooo0-0oooo--- 

"Those are huge knockers," Tristin broke the silence.

"I always thought so," Rory added. "I think it has to do with the weight."

"They are pretty round," Tristin commented.

"I'd say heavier toward the tip end?" Rory continued on.

"The door will not magically open if you guys don't ring the doorbell," Lorelai said with a hint of irritation as she reached between the two of them to summon the maid with the brass knockers.

Rory and Tristin looked at each other like a pair of children being scolded. Tristin tried to suppress the church giggle that wanted to escape his throat. Rory just punched him on the arm to get him to stop making her laugh.

"Come in, come in. Can't let the chill get in," Emily welcomed her guests and ushered them in hurriedly.

The maid at the door took their coats and scarves before vanishing quickly and quietly.

"Where's she taking my coat? What if we have to make a mad dash?" he whispered impishly in Rory's ear.

"Shhh!" Rory hushed Tristin. "Don't get us into trouble before drinks are served. It will make the whole thing more tolerable."

"Hi Dad, hi Grandpa," Rory greeted the two men standing by the brandy snifter.

"Hey, Kiddo," Christopher called out. Richard let out an inaudible grumble about getting more ice. He excused himself without giving Rory or Tristin a glance.

"Everything alright?" Rory asked. A knot in her stomach started to form as she stared at her grandfather's disappearing figure.

"I guess," Christopher shrugged his shoulders. "Martini?"

Rory nodded her head and turned to Tristin. "Dad, I want you to meet my husband, Tristin DuGrey."

Christopher smiled and eyed the blonde in front of him from head to toe and back. "Finally, I get to meet the man whose impulsiveness got my daughter snagged."

"She is rather captivating," Tristin replied, smiling, as he took Rory's hand in his. If anything else, being tethered to her made him feel at least more at ease.

Rory smiled as the small gesture. She ordered a drink for Tristin as they sat on the couch across from Lorelai and Christopher.

"Tristin, I am not going to sugarcoat this," Lorelai started out saying, looking at him through the rim of her alcoholic beverage. "But I don't trust you."

"Fair enough," Tristin said in the same guarded tone. "I didn't expect you to, based on circumstances."

"Yeah, what's with the rush?" Christopher asked. "It's not like you guys have known each other as adults."

"Dad," Rory spoke in Tristin's defense. "It was our decision, and I don't think that this is the place and time to discuss matters like this. Can't you just be happy?"

"What's Rory's favorite color?" Lorelai asked.

"Blue," he replied.

"Season?"

"Winter, like you. She likes it cold."

"Book?"

"Trick question, books. What genre would you like me to start with?"

"Mom!" Rory interfered.

"I am surprised. You got someone well-trained here like a Jeopardy contestant," Lorelai said.

"Come on, Lore. Give the kid a break," Christopher chided Lorelai.

"A break? He could be a serial killer for all we know!" Lorelai said with her hurtful tone. "Now he's just a serial killer who has memorized Rory trivia. Anyway, where's Mom?"

Lorelai got up from her seat and went into the kitchen in search of her parents. Silence befell the remaining three.

"So, marriage," Christopher said. "Big step."

"It is," Tristin replied, squeezing Rory's hand. "Just glad it happened to me."

Rory blushed at the statement. She knew they were just words. Nonetheless, the sentiment made her realize that she liked the girly moment.

"Good, good," Christopher continued on. "Any plans? I mean, isn't Velocity based out of Philadelphia?"

Rory and Tristin gave each other a look of panic. "We… haven't really discussed that yet, Dad."

"Yeah, we still have to…."

"Far be it for me to tell you kids what to do, but I would suggest that you either fabricate a story for the Gilmores or you will be given a third degree that will make you prefer to take a walk through Siberia without a coat or a pair of shoes on."

In marched Emily without a glance at her granddaughter and Tristin. "Dinner's going to be served."

All three raised eyebrows at each other as they marched toward the dining room table. By taking their seats, they felt like they were lining up for the firing squad.

Richard was red in the face.

Emily was stoic in anger.

Lorelai shot daggers at Tristin with her deep blue eyes.

Christopher was ready to slap the silliness out of the group.

The slow ticking of the grandfather clock echoed through the quiet room. Hearing the pop and fizz from the fireplace made the tension unbearable.

As soon as the soup was served, Emily slammed her palm against the table. "This is ridiculous! Rory, how could you do this?"

"Do what?" Rory screeched.

"Rory, how dare you raise your voice to your grandmother!" Richard responded heatedly.

"I dare because I didn't do anything wrong," Rory said.

"Rory, you and Tristin tied the knot without letting us know about it," Lorelai added.

"I know that if your grandfather was still alive, he would not have allowed it," Richard said in anger to Tristin. "It's something I could see your father doing, but you? I expected more, Son."

"Now, Richard," Christopher piped in. "Why don't we listen to what the kids have to say?"

"See? You yourself pointed out that they are kids," Emily said.

"They are! Rory is my daughter and she will always be my kid," Christopher raised his voice at her.

"Well apparently, your daughter has also inherited your need to act upon impulse," Emily replied acridly.

"While that may be true, I have learned to live with the consequences," Christopher replied harshly.

"Like raising your daughter?" Emily mocked. "Where were you when Lorelai and Rory lived in a shed? Where were you when your daughter practically begged for us to pay for Yale?"

"Grandma!"

"Mom!" Lorelai snapped. "I thought we weren't going to discuss that matter anymore? No one is indebted to anyone. I sort of recalled Christopher paying for Yale the instant he was able to do so and you and dad being unrealistic about the whole thing!"

"Lorelai, you have no clue how hard it was take you seriously after you have rejected our help time after time…."

"Spare me the grief, Mom," Lorelai said as the house help cleared out the table.

"So it's convenient to come to us when you're in a bind and yet it's totally acceptable to have Christopher be the knight in shining armor when he feels like playing the role?" Emily continued arguing.

"Emily, you know pretty well what you're saying is nowhere close to being the truth," Christopher replied.

"Christopher, you wouldn't know what truth was if it knocked you on the side of the head," Emily haughtily interrupted him.

"If only you had married Lorelai," Richard grumbled.

"If I married Lorelai, Rory wouldn't be the woman she is now," Christopher replied heatedly.

"Exactly!" Emily stated. "She would've done things right. She wouldn't have eloped in Vegas."

"Mrs. Gilmore," Tristin tried to get a word in.

"You have no right to talk," Emily pointed a finger at him.

"That's it," Rory said, giving up. "Let's go, Tristin."

The couple got up and started heading out to the living room.

"Where are you going? Dinner's not done!" Emily complained.

"Well, I am not going to subject Tristin or myself to the displeasure of having you and Gramps and Mom treating us like invalids!" Rory finally blew up. "I knew we weren't going to get an overwhelming amount of well wishes, but I was hoping for some civility. Apparently, I overestimated."

Lorelai was overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. Dumbfounded, she got up and apologized. "I am so sorry."

"I'll catch you at home," Rory said wearily.

Rory and Tristin exited the large house, with the door slamming behind them as the breeze blew by.

"Well, that was one great reception," Tristin said, still astounded at what had just happened.

"I do apologize for my family's behavior," Rory said, ashamed. She shoved her hands back into her pockets.

"I wasn't expecting any less drama," Tristin admitted, mimicking Rory's action. "This is, after all, Hartford."

"I'm just so disappointed," she grumbled.

"Well, look at it this way, when the year's over, at least they've had a head start in hating me," he humored her as he opened her car door.

"That's not fair!" Rory replied. "They never gave you a chance."

"Rory, I would be lying if I said I am not surprised at how you're taking this," he admitted, turning the ignition on and making the engine of his BMW purr.

They drove away in silence. Mile marker after mile marker, the winding lanes heading for Hartford got wider and busier. Before they knew it, they were greeted with bright lights, headlights, and the nightlife of downtown.

"So what are we going to do now?" Rory asked, hugging herself in comfort.

"Eat?" he asked. "Although the raspberry vinaigrette on the salad was good, it wasn't enough for me to be full."

Rory chuckled. "You get lambasted by my family, and all you can think about is your gut? You're unbelievable."

"It's called a thick skin," he humbly replied. "I've had worse encounters."

"Well...," she said, indignant, "that wasn't a boardroom. That was just plain rudeness."

"Honestly, would you have expected less?"

Rory had to stop and think about his statement. Was she expecting more than what he offered?

Tristin glanced her way quickly when she remained silent and deep in thought. In frustration, he shifted the clutch and sped off into the night.

How could he ask Rory about expectations for things that she wasn't even aware existed? Right before he made the decision to fly out for the mandatory dinner engagement, he had to consider private investigators, cronies, allies, and sycophants wanting to see him fail or succeed, depending on where each person stood.

He understood the risks and took them. He remembered booking a commercial flight to Hartford, despite having a fleet of private jets to cater to his every whim. He took the calculated gamble of calling Amy at work to let her know that he was out of town for an emergency, and he didn't know when he'd be back. By the time Lott and his venue of vultures found out, he would've been able to spend some alone time with Rory; away from camera lenses and the stalking media.

_When he saw her daydreaming by the airport ramp, he knew what he was doing was right. If nothing else, he owed Rory the courtesy of going through the ordeal as painlessly as possible._

She wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a dove-gray pea coat to keep the cold away. Her face void of make-up except for the light shimmer of lipstick, a dusting of foundation and a light coat of mascara, which made her look like a teenager rather than a successful journalist.

"Doesn't the husband get a customary kiss?" Tristin teased her to wake her up from her reverie. Mouth open, insert foot.

She blushed under his blatant mockery. "Hi. Must have spaced out there for a second."

They stared for a second before she felt her ears burn from his gaze. "Are you serious about the kiss?"

Tristin laughed out loud, watching her squirm. "Not unless you really want to."

"Stop it," she said, play punching him on the arm, embarrassed at how she reacted. Trying to compose herself, she asked, "Want to grab some lunch? We have a long way to go in getting to know each other."

Catching the hand that punched him on the arm, he pulled her knuckles toward his lips, kissing it ever so slightly. "I wouldn't want it any other way," he replied, giving her a quick wink before putting his arm around her.

Over cups of coffee and pasta and salad, the two tackled the problem at hand and quizzed each other over things they should know about each other. From likes to dislikes, birthdays and friends, twenty-five years was summarized in three hours. The only time they took a break from each other was when they decided to go their separate ways to get ready for the night's festivities. Little did they know that it would turn into a disaster.

"I hope you brought your appetite," he finally said, grinning as he stopped the car.

Rory was a little surprised when a valet opened her car door.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Max's. Come on," he said, smiling.

A line of people formed at the door, waiting to be seated. Heated eyes bore at her back when Tristin nodded his head and they got seated.

They had a bay window seat overlooking the city. The warm chocolate leather seats helped Rory relax.

"I love this place," Tristin said nonchalantly, reading the menu. "They make wonderful drinks, too."

Rory had to smile. "Are you sure you're not demented? You're taking this too well."

Tristin put down the menu and looked at her. "Rory, right now, there are no reporters… Correction, other than you there are no reporters, no photographers around us. It's a Friday. I am nowhere close to my office and I am in the company of someone I actually like."

"I won't go that far," Rory teased before thanking the garcon for her amaretto sour. "Maybe tolerate?"

"I'll take tolerate any time," he said, winking at her, raising his drink to her as a toast.

From that point on, Tristin put a moratorium on their marital problems. He let his guard down and Rory enjoyed that. Three hours later, Tristin and Rory were finishing up the last of their ice creams from Taylor's Soda Shoppe, walking back to the Crap Shack.

"This was a wonderful first date, Rory Gilmore," Tristin said as Rory fumbled with her front door keys.

Rory left the door ajar and faced her husband. "It was."

"So, would I be too presumptuous if I asked if I can see you again?" he asked, teasing.

"No," Rory giggled, lowering her eyes. Her heart did a little jump at the thought of seeing him again. "I don't think there are any rules regarding dating the person you married… I mean, post ceremony, that is."

"I guess I should consult those highly touted 'keep your marriage together' books Barnes and Noble touts so well," he added jovially. "Anyway, it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be, and I want a repeat."

"I think that can be arranged," she replied softly. "So…."

"So…." he imitated her.

"What should I tell my Mom? I mean, I think she's expecting me to spend the night with you."

Tristin's eyes looked away and stared at the dark of the night. "I knew I was forgetting something." His eyes grew dark and weary, honestly regretting his oversight.

"I mean, I am not asking that we…," Rory didn't want to complete the thought.

"Do you want to?"

"I… really don't know. I've never been contracted to be married to someone before."

Silence.

"Look," Tristin sighed. "Maybe this is what's best for now. I think your Dad's right. We have to get this whole living arrangement taken care of, whether we're just doing this on paper or for the real thing."

The real thing? Rory dared not to think about his commentary.

"Yeah, you have to think of Katherine," Rory blurted.

Tristin looked at her strangely. "Yeah, Katherine." His voice changed and went back to being a little harder and more business-like. "Tell your mom that I had to fly out tonight."

"Are you?" Rory asked, her heart sinking to her surprise.

"Why do you care? You just told me that I needed to think about Katherine," he replied, trying to control his slow-boiling anger.

"I'm sorry," she said without really being apologetic. "I just thought…"

"Look, it's been a long night. I'll give you a ring this weekend and let you know when I'm coming back to see you."

"Alright," Rory said, stepping into the foyer of the house. "Tristin?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Good night… And for what it's worth, I had fun today. Of course not that whole thing with Grandma, but the rest…."

"I'm glad," he said. "I'll see you next week?"

Rory nodded her head and closed the door. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the door. What a way to end the night.

A loud rapping made her jump. She opened the door immediately and found him pacing back and forth.

"So, I have this thing about ending dates," he said quickly.

Rory lunged forward and kissed him soundly on the lips. He was taken by surprise when her soft coral colored lips meshed with his. She tasted like the mint chocolate ice cream she had devoured moments before.

He took the kiss willingly, savoring each second he could. His tongue probed, his lips claimed the soft skin that kissed back. If nothing else, he'd remember this moment as an event to cherish despite its state of complexity.

As quickly as she offered herself to him, she pulled back. She retreated into the darkness before he could touch her one last time.

"Let me know if you got back to Philly well," Rory said before saying good night one last time.

The slam of the door made him comprehend that things might be a little more complex than what they seemed.


	6. Decisions Versus Day Dreams

_Thanks to all that have waited for this to come out. Hopefully, I'll be cranking out updates sooner than later._

_Thanks to the Ickle Gals for not giving up on me, Camilla for being optimistic and Mrs. Boyscout for not allowing me to start a VM fic without finishing my GG ones._

_Special shout out to Ames who got me over this hump. I owe you one._

CHAPTER 6

Tristin stood at the doorway, cold and shivering. Ironically, the feeling reflected what he just subjected himself to after a night of too many tequilas and the need to feel.

He should've accepted the fact that he was human kryptonite. The only people he should be with were those that knew how to survive in his world and understood that the only things that made him live and breathe were adrenaline and hedonism.

It was his religion until he woke up next to Rory Gilmore.

He winced at the thought that he wanted to be different. He knew he couldn't change who he was, especially after what his father expected him to be. In his moment of weakness, running away did not just show that he was pathetic, but that he was selfish not to think about the ramifications of his stupidity.

He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. It was too damned early to be up. Barely eight in the morning, and he found himself deliberating whether he should slip into the quiet house like he had done so many times before or knock. After all, he was now a stranger in her world.

He lifted his fist, ready to announce his arrival.

Ready to pounce, his conscience stopped him.

What was he supposed to expect? Katherine to take him in and say that things were going to be fine? That she understood?

He turned around and walked toward the far end of the white porch. He leaned over, inhaled deeply, and stared away. His eyes dwelled on the frost melting on the tips of the blades of grass. He wished his problems dissolved like the ice thawing before him.

"So, were you going to get in here or are you waiting for an invite?" the voice behind him asked.

He turned around and gave Katherine a good look. Freshly scrubbed and in comfortable peejays, the innocence she portrayed was just an act. He came fully prepared to suffer her wrath.

"Well this is kind of awkward, you know?" he said, pointing at the gap she left open.

"Come on," she waved him in as she stepped away the door for him to step in.

He followed her through the door and watched her move deftly through the kitchen. She poured him a glass of orange juice and then put some distance between them. Silence befell the Center City suburban home, albeit the sound of a few birds chirping and traffic passing by.

"Tell me you didn't come here to apologize," Katherine asked quietly.

He took a deliberate swig out of the glass. "I came to collect my things and go."

"Moving out," she sighed. "I am surprised you didn't send Adrian or your snotty secretary to pack your things up."

"I didn't come here to pick a fight, okay?" Tristin replied, finishing off the drink.

"Then tell me then why you didn't bother telling me that you felt this strongly about commitment," she inquired. Her face was turning red in frustration. She closed in on him, hesitant to touch him in anger.

"Katherine," he said her name in a controlled voice, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap.

"Tell me that something was wrong!" she yelled. "Tell me that we had a problem. Tell me that I was boring you!"

"You did not bore me, Kat," Tristin corrected her.

"Then why did I have to find out through a newspaper that my boyfriend got married and not to me?" she wailed throwing the newspaper at him.

"I can explain," Tristin said softly.

"What's there to explain? You're married," her voice was calm and controlled. She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to say something inspiring.

"Yes, but…."

"But what? You did this just so that you can tell me that I was a bad girlfriend?"

"You are not a bad girlfriend," he corrected her.

"I know we had issues," she admitted, running her hand through her hair. "But you have always known how demanding my schedule is. You knew that. That's why I invited you on my trips!"

"And you knew that I cannot just drop everything to join you for three days in Milan or a week in Prague," he threw her suggestion back to her.

"Oh, but I can when you have to leave for Sydney in forty-eight hours?"

Tristin got up and sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "I didn't come here to fight, Kat."

"Then why? Why did you marry her?" she asked. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.

"I have to start collecting my things," he replied without answering her question.

He walked to the bedroom and pulled out a suitcase from the bottom of the walk-in closet. After opening the black bag, he started tossing in clothes that reminded him of better times with Kat.

"Tell me you still love me," she requested as she leaned against the door.

Without flinching, he said, "I do."

Katherine walked toward him and stroked the pulsating vein on his neck. "Then divorce her. Be with me. Let's pretend this nightmare didn't happen."

"Katherine," he growled, getting aroused by her touch.

"I'll be a good girl. I'll cancel some of my contracts and shoots," she promised, kissing the exposed skin that showed some of his chest hair.

He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her warm lips against his skin. He automatically reached out and grabbed her hips.

No. No. NO.

"You have to stop, Katherine. I am married," he said, as if he was trying to convince himself to buy the lie he was selling her.

She pulled away quickly like he singed her. "But you love me."

Tristin looked away and waited until he heard Katherine sob and leave him in peace.

The silence spoke volumes.

The first few bars of the _Sex and the City_ theme song filled the house. In disgust, Tristin just threw everything in the bag, not bothering to roll, fold, or tuck anything worth saving. Seeing Katherine cry gave him a fresh perspective on how he should attack his current relationship with Rory. He couldn't fall for her. She didn't understand the game. She didn't know what kind of stamina it took to be with a workaholic like him.

Taking his watch from the vanity, he stared at the twelve o'clock diamond that winked at him. He remembered how she defended him to her family. He remembered how they laughed and fell into conversation quickly.

By God, he hoped she wouldn't fall for him.

He could hear Carrie and her band of merry discuss Carrie's sudden cold feet with her relationship with Aidan. Everyone told her to stop thinking about Big and snatch up one of the few good ones.

Of course, Carrie whined.

Tristin shut the lid to the suitcase and lifted it out the room. Once he reached the living room, he watched the characters attempt to talk Carrie into reason.

Carrie. Rory was definitely not Carrie. Rory was open and willing and trusting. She definitely was Charlotte, in constant search for the real thing.

"Just because I walk down runways doesn't mean that I am vapid or shallow," she said, hurt evident in the tone of her voice.

"I know you're not," he responded. He looked over Katherine's head and wanted to touch her. He wanted to kiss her and tell her that everything would rectify itself between them.

But he couldn't.

Were there cameras outside the window waiting for him to fail? Would Katherine understand?

"Katherine," he started saying, "I have no right to ask you to forgive me or understand me or for you to cut me some slack."

She snorted.

"I just need you to know that what happened is not because something wrong happened between us," he clarified. "Rory and I…."

"Rory, huh?" Katherine said her name acerbically. "What is she like? No, wait, I don't want to know."

"She was there when you stormed the office," he tried to jog her memory.

She squinted, trying to think back to that awful day. She remembered the guards, the old men, and Amy. She was upset. However, she remembered the brunette sitting in the corner. It couldn't be her.

"Does she know that you like quiet mornings? Does she know that you like things in their place, unmoved? Does she know that you sometimes end up waking up and crying when you think of your mother?"

Her last question was a low blow. "No."

"She won't make you happy," she harangued. "She doesn't know you as well as I do."

"I know. She's not supposed to make me happy," he quipped harshly.

"Then what is she to you? A trophy?" Katherine asked forcefully.

'A business deal,' he said to himself.

Katherine turned off the show and looked back at him. "I wish I could stay angry with you, but I can't."

"Can't?" he asked hopefully.

"Tristin, why her and not me?" she asked once more.

"Katherine, I have done things I am not proud of. This is one of them. I don't expect you to understand them now, but I cannot answer your question. Not yet. Not now," he said, contemplating the words that slipped from her lips.

"So, what do you expect me to do? Don a habit until you get your senses back? Pretend that you're not married and that you're on an extended business trip?" she shot back.

"I don't intend on giving you stipulations, Katherine. I can't guarantee you…" he was cut short.

"Fine," she said, slapping the remote on the coffee table. "Don't tell me. I will keep my distance. I'll even be polite to your wife. But don't think that I will play nice. You were mine, Tristin, and I want you back."

"Katherine, damn it. Don't do something you'd regret."

"Why should I make it any easier on you? You hurt me, Tristin, you hurt me!" she finally broke down in tears. "And if it means that I have to show that wife of yours that I know you better than her, she has to give you up. She has to!"

"Katherine," he sighed. He went to her and comforted the girl who was now part of his past. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you have!"

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said.

"How long, Tristin? A month? A year?"

Tristin closed his eyes and thought hard. "Soon."

As soon as he closed his arms around her, he knew that he had one shot in making the fifty-one week ordeal work without having any more casualties suffer any more than they had to.

-----oooo0---0oooo-------

"I still am shocked, you know," Jackie pointed her olive-adorned toothpick. "How could you?"

"Jackie, this isn't the time for you to mother me," Rory groaned as she leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes, her arm covering her eyes. It was bad enough that her drive that Sunday afternoon was longer than usual. Hearing Jackie give her a sermon was something she was not willing to listen to.

"You cannot be real," Jackie said, sipping her third margarita.

"It's not like I held a gun to his head and forced him to marry me," Rory said in defense.

"Did he?" Jess teased back.

"No," Rory grumbled. "It… just… happened."

"That is so not the most romantic thing to be said about an impromptu wedding, Gilmore," Jackie harangued.

"I know, I know," Rory gave in. "I still have to convince myself that it has happened. It happened so fast!"

"Yeah, too TomKat quick for my taste," Jess piped in. "You in the family way?"

"No, I'm not in the family way, not that I have to defend myself to you… Why are you so harsh on him?" Rory tossed her head toward Jess' direction. "You've never met the guy."

He snapped his fingers quickly. "Exactly my point. He's not trustworthy."

"I wouldn't say trustworthy," Jackie swirled her drink in her hand. "He's…"

"What?" Rory challenged her.

"Not your speed," she said with a sigh. "Look, Rory, I love you. But why him?"

Rory asked herself the same question.

"Sure, he's rich, he's good looking," Jackie enumerated. "But you're more of a substance gal."

"He has substance!" Rory interjected.

"That's why you had to defend him?" Jess queried.

"I had to defend him because he was being maligned," Rory answered.

Jackie raised a professionally sculpted eyebrow at her.

"A man like him, if he was a man, does not need defending," Jess argued.

"A man like him does not deserve to be given the third degree, especially by Emily Gilmore," Rory argued.

"I think your grandmother is Hitler Incarnate," Jess scoffed.

"Is not!" Rory defended. "She's just… overly protective."

"Well she and I agree on one thing. What you did was pretty stupid," Jess snorted, downing the contents of his scotch. "What's it with you and your attraction to rich, blond boys?"

"Nothing! I…." Rory almost spilled the beans about her relationship with Tristin.

"For once in your life, be empathetic, Jess. This is not about you," Jackie rolled her eyes at him. "So what's your contingency plan?"

"A year," Rory put down her glass on the funky antique coffee table. She had to shut her eyes at what she just revealed.

"A year?" Jess scoffed. "A year to what? Figure out that this guy's a jackass? That you want a warm body next to you? Rory, this guy's nothing but trouble."

Rory amended her statement quickly. "Well, I am sorry, Jess. Not everyone is as upfront about love like you are. Not everyone can just blink an eye and make the decision that it's going to fail from the very start before giving it a chance to work."

"Don't be so naïve," Jess muttered, pouring himself another drink, this time savoring the smoky flavor. "I think you married a puss."

"Thank you, Peanut Gallery," Jackie expressed her dislike for Jess at that moment. "Rory, this marriage…."

"I'll be alright," Rory sighed. "I got myself in it, I will stick it out."

"So what happens when a year has passed and you're still in the dark?" Jackie asked, concerned.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there," Rory said thoughtfully, "but I have to give this some time. It's an adjustment, for sure, but it'll fix itself."

Fix itself, she said. Rory really did not know what to expect. The fact that she didn't know how to read her spouse drove her insane.

Three hours later and drunk as a skunk, Rory stumbled into her apartment, more confused than ever. Not bothering to shut the front door completely, she plopped her keys on the table and disrobed on her way to her bathroom.

She didn't want romance. She didn't want commitment. Yet, she found herself wondering whether she was settling. If she was, what was she settling for? It was not like she was waiting for a knight in shining armor. They did not exist. It was not like she was waiting for a storybook ending. She knew they never came, at least not to her. So why did she want to convince everyone that what she had with Tristin was the real thing?

Frustrated with herself, she snagged the robe off the hanger and angrily tied the sash around her waist. As she started running her bath, the phone rang. Pressing the speaker button, she answered the call.

"So I hear congratulations are in order," the smoky, coquettish voice filled the minimalist room.

"Louise? Is that you? How did you get my number?" Rory asked, surprised.

"How do you think?" she chuckled seductively. "I bumped into Paris last Friday when I was in DC. She told me the news, not like I didn't already know. You're such a sly fox!"

"I don't know what you're referring to," Rory coyly replied.

"Don't be such a goody two shoes, Mary," Louise chided her. "Come on. How was the honeymoon? Is he great in the sack?"

"Louise Grant! I can't believe you asked me that question!" Rory laughed at the incredulous question.

"Oh Rory, we're adults now. You cannot play the innocent card, especially after snagging Tristin DuGrey. So, give up the details. On the scale of one to ten with ten being multiply orgasmic, how do you rate him?"

"I am not answering that question!" Rory stood her ground.

"If you won't tell me, Madeline will be giving you a ring. And then Paris. You know you don't want Paris being on your case on whether or not she could've pleased the boy by being on top," Louise threatened.

"Good bye, Louise," Rory said in a singsong voice before hanging up.

"Geez!" Rory exclaimed loudly as she dragged herself back to the bathroom.

"You know you could've lied and said I was an eleven," the masculine voice emanated from the doorway.

Rory was startled at the sound of his voice. "Tristin?"

He emerged from the shadows, dressed casually in jeans and a soft jersey tee. "You know you should learn to lock the door behind you. Single girls like you cannot take the risk of having intruders disturb your space."

She watched him finger the negligee she deposited on the floor moments before his arrival.

"Well, it so happens I am not single anymore," she replied, her heart beating faster as he approached her.

"That's true," he hummed in agreement. "Nonetheless, I don't like you living here alone."

"I've done it for two years now, DuGrey. I think I can take care of myself."

"Not if you're my wife. You're now my responsibility," he corrected her.

"Speaking of which, what are you doing here so late? Did I miss something?" she took the piece of fabric from his fingers. "And for the record, I am not uprooting myself and putting my life on hold to be with you in Philly, Tristin."

He was so close that his aftershave tickled her nostrils.

"I'm not asking you to uproot yourself, Rory, or move to Philly unless you want to," he said.

"No," she hesitated saying. The two letters seemed lodged at the back of her throat.

"Good, because I am asking you to live with me," he said, his lips mere inches away from hers. "I'll be working at the New York office temporarily until we get this – merger completed."

Rory licked her lips, anticipating for something between them to happen. "Do I have a say in this?"

"I'm not going to seduce you, you know. It's like we just became roommates. You get your own room and bath. Hell, it definitely would be better than this hellhole you currently call home," he said softly.

"Oh," she said, snapping out of the drunken haze of dreams she gave up on and debated upon just mere minutes ago. "When are we going to, ah, do this?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

A beat passed before she nodded. "I'll make sure the landlord knows."


	7. Airing Dirty Laundry

CHAPTER 7

Telling Jackie she wasn't coming to work that morning was a task itself. Having her best friend take her absence well, despite it being crunch time at the magazine, took her by surprise.

"You know what? Take a week. Heaven knows you need to find yourself. Vegas put a spell on you, and you need to get out of your funk. You're a disaster. Call me when you've gotten some sense in that noggin of yours," Jackie said.

Rory didn't want to hear Jackie treat her like a pariah, but she knew her friend meant well. Now if everything were that easy.

Luck had to prove her otherwise.

Trying to wake Tristin up from her couch was another ordeal in itself.

"Get up, Tristin. You're drooling on my couch," she hissed as she threw a face towel at him.

"Be gone, Witch," he moaned, flipping on to his back.

"Well, this witch does not make breakfast, so if you ever plan on getting anything in that bottomless pit of yours, I suggest you make a donut run," she replied, tying her hair back in a ponytail.

Part of her wanted to hear him make a smart comeback first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, her mind had already wandered to the task at hand.

Last night, they'd spoken with no words. They tried to come to grips with what was about to happen to them in the next few months, not knowing what to expect or how life was going to play itself out.

Neither complained, nor argued. It was like they both knew that they had to depend on and trust each other to make their arrangement work.

Exhaustion made them finally succumb to slumber.

Waking up without being smarter and without any answers, both accepted their fate and what they had to deal with in the long haul.

She pushed the niggling thoughts aside as she walked into her bathroom. To her surprise, he followed her to the small, cramped space.

"Excuse me!" Rory exclaimed as she stopped midway from scrubbing her face. His tall, lean frame squeezed itself into the confines. Her eyes wandered to his five o'clock shadow as he scratched the growth absentmindedly.

"I have to go," he retorted, eyes half open.

Rory let out a small "eep" as he flipped the toilet seat up. She turned back around and shut her eyes. Before she could glance at her reflection, she heard him unzip. The sound of trickling fluid made her blush.

"Couldn't you have waited until I was done in here?" she asked, upset.

He flushed the toilet as if he was telling her what he thought of her opinion.

"Would you have preferred me to pee in a cup? The morning void is something I cannot prevent," he said, pushing her aside to wash his hands.

"Rude!" she commented.

Like two clumsy teenagers, both tried to use the small bathroom simultaneously. Awkward was a term they became accustomed to seconds into the ordeal.

"Hey, before you know it, you'll be belching in front of me so we might as well get used to this cycle," he indicated, drying his hands on the towel.

"I don't belch, thank you," Rory informed him. She resumed exfoliating her face.

"Plus, if I am being assigned the task to do a breakfast run, the least you can do is be hospitable and allow me my morning piddle."

She was miffed at his actions but she knew it was too late to scold him. There was some truth to his statement. Eventually, their masks would fall off and they'd get to know each other more than they wish they did. She just hoped that he was right when he said they had their own facilities in their new digs.

"Here," Rory handed him a small package.

"What is it?" he asked as he wiped his face on the washcloth she provided him earlier.

"Thought you might want a toothbrush," she replied.

It was the first genuine smile she saw on his face in the past couple of hours. "Thanks."

"What?" Rory started feeling red creep back on her cheeks, and she didn't know why.

"You know what they say about sharing toothbrushes," he teased her.

"I am not sharing your cooties," she said. "Besides, you're forcing me to give up this hole. We're going to be sharing something more than just a toothbrush and bathroom space."

Tristin took a deep breath and exhaled. "You are right. Excited?"

"Scared," Rory amended his statement. "I really don't know what we're doing here."

"I don't know either but we have an agreement…."

"An agreement it is," Rory repeated the grim statement. Suddenly, the night's compromise had come out in the light. He, as far as she was concerned, was still committed to Katherine. She, on the other hand, still needed proof that happy endings existed.

Tristin exited the bathroom as he continued brushing his teeth. "Pack only the essentials. We'll come back for the rest later. I'll arrange to have your furniture put in storage."

She was about to argue, but she just shut her mouth. Some things just weren't important enough to argue about.

Five hours, four phone calls, a sublet on her apartment, and a trip in Tristin's car later, Rory suddenly found herself apprehensive about the drastic change that had happened in the short week.

'What am I doing here?' Rory asked herself as she stared at the house in front of her.

She had never seen this side of town. Come to think of it, she had no idea this place existed. Just right outside New York City, Rory had driven to Tarrytown, about forty minutes from the world she immersed herself in.

"What do you think?"

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It is our company cottage, but for the next couple of months, it's going to be Chateau DuGrey."

"Excuse me, Chateau Gilmore-DuGrey, thank you," Rory corrected him.

"Of course," Tristin's acquiesced. Suddenly, his throat became parched. His palms sweaty, he looked at Rory and asked, "You ready?"

Rory shot him a look of dread. "Do I have a choice?"

He shot her a reassuring glance before he cocked his head to the side. "Come on. We don't have all day to get this done."

Rory gingerly got out of the car. Taking one deep breath before taking the stone steps, Rory followed his lead.

"Wait," he ordered before she took a step into the foyer. He lunged into the house for a second before darting back out. Before she knew it, Tristin swept her off her feet and attempted to carry her through the doorframe.

"What are you doing?" she asked, panicking.

"Carrying you over the threshold," he said. "Isn't that what bridal--"

_Thwack!_

Rory's head smacked against the doorframe.

Tristin panicked and helped her on to her feet as he dropped the stupid chivalrous act. Rory took a moment to recover from the jarring pain.

"Are you okay?" concern laced his voice.

Rory winced as she tried to regain her balance. "I would like to laugh, but my head hurts," she admitted, her giggle coming out a groan, as she was guided to the couch.

"I was just trying to be husbandly," he said, his pride hurt.

"It was cute," Rory said, leaning back against the soft backrest. "Just let me know the next time you try to do something endearing. That way I can prepare myself."

"Don't ever let me hear you say that I've never tried to be gallant," he said, trying to get a closer look at the red bump emerging from her forehead.

"I promise not to," she swore as she looked back at him. For a second, she got lost in his blue eyes. She shuddered just thinking how it was very easy for her to find herself day dreaming about him almost immediately.

Tristin held her stare and smiled. Nothing could have broken the tension any better. "So, what do you think?"

Rory gazed into the sunlit room and absorbed the new environment. "Very . . . nice."

It was more than nice. The two-story home was very deceiving. Quaint and comely on the outside, the interior boasted more than a residential front. The living room was large and inviting with a stone fireplace longing to be lit to heat up the space. Comfy throw blankets warmed the masculine dark leather seats that adorned the room. The small windows straddling the chimney brought a warmth and stillness that beckoned one to sit and read on a snowy or rainy night.

It was nothing short of perfect.

Her eyes darted to the corner of the room where a large wrought-iron coat hanger stood. Her face paled as she saw the mound of boxes wrapped in white wedding paper and ribbons. She knew she had to be hallucinating.

"What are those?" she whispered, pointing at the pile.

"I assume wedding presents," he playfully answered. "I know it's not my birthday, and if it's yours, man, your friends need to pick better wrappers."

"We have to send them back!" she nervously responded.

"Why?" he countered. "We did get married, you know."

"I don't feel right accepting these presents!" her conscience got the best of her.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Rory, no one knows that this isn't the real thing. If you want to send them back, fine, but I think you're going to be hard pressed for questions if you refuse them now."

She looked at him, unconvinced.

"We don't have to open them. Hell, I don't care if you donate them. Let's just not argue about it this time," he replied.

Rory looked at the highly polished hardwood floor. "Fine."

Fine. What does that word really mean? All right. Okay. Fine just sounds … incomplete.

"Are you ready to take a tour of the house?" he asked.

Nodding, she gingerly got up and followed suit.

The high-vaulted ceilings led them to the dining room. Large and unassuming, the heavy classic contemporary appeal matched the large rug that accentuated the space. To its right was a two-person kitchen equipped with a gas stove and oven. The brushed silver refrigerator stood closely to the small breakfast nook shelf where Rory pictured him reading the paper before heading to work.

"Impressed?" Tristin broke into her thoughts.

"I am," she admitted.

"There's more," he said excitedly.

He led her out the French doors and onto the patio. Right outside, pine trees greeted her. She watched as a plane left a trail of smoke in the clear blue skies above the treetops. Tucked behind a locked shelf was a patio umbrella. The wooden lounge chairs still had some left-over snow melting.

She took the three steps down to the cold ground. As she looked right, she smiled. Two yellow swings hung on the swing set. An odd sensation to rock herself in the playground set made her grin.

She felt him behind her. His placed his hands on her shoulders before he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"There are tennis courts over there," he pointed. "There's also a pool. Now, if you head there," he pointed the other direction, "you're in the woods."

Rory was breath taken. "You have a nice place."

"We have a nice place," he added. "Come on. You still have to see the rest of the house."

He turned her around and draped his arms over her shoulder. Automatically, her arm wrapped around his waist as they ascended the steps back into the house.

They were oblivious to the whirring and clicking of a camera hidden far away from them.

"There are four rooms in the house," he said, shedding his coat. "One room has been converted to an office since most people that stay here don't bring their family."

"Convenient for a drinking party," Rory replied absentmindedly.

"Are you telling me you're a lush?" he beamed a smile at her.

"No, just stating a fact!" she interjected.

"Here we are," he said.

A queen-sized, four-poster bed was tucked to one side of the room. Matching armoire and bureau completed the furniture. A small bookcase and sitting chair were nestled around the window.

"It's beautiful," she muttered.

"I thought you might like it," he said, beaming.

Rory went in and touched the spines of the hardbound books and paperbacks stacked and leaning up against each other.

"There's your bathroom," he pointed to the closed door.

"No sharing?" she teased.

"Not unless you ask," he volleyed.

Again, Rory found herself tongue-tied.

Averting his gaze, she stuttered, "S-so, where's your room?"

Tristin bit his inner cheek before he let could taunt her again. "It's, uh, over here."

Down the hallway, Tristin led her to his room. "This is me."

Despite the room looking like something that came out from _Architectural Digest_, Rory knew that he left his mark.

From the dark blue sheets that covered the bed to the messy stack of papers on the desk, she knew that he liked being here.

"When was the last time you were here?" she asked.

"Right before I left for Las Vegas," he replied.

Rory succumbed to the temptation to touch the furniture. Her fingers traced the edges of the sleigh bed. The warm mahogany color beckoned her to do more than touch. Her hand pressed down on the mattress like she was trying out its springs.

"You can sit on it. I promise, it won't bite," he teased.

She withdrew her hand from the flannel sheets like it singed her. "I knew that."

She took a step back trying to show that she was unaffected by his voice, his innuendo.

Alas, grace escaped her.

Her heel pivoted on a magazine cover on the floor. Even Miss Patty's attempts at making her graceful during her formative years at that point didn't help her land elegantly on the soft mattress top.

"Ooof!" Rory went as she plopped on the sheets.

"Rory, I'm not that kind of guy!" Tristin teased, trying to help her out of the bed.

"If you cleaned up after yourself," she taunted back.

"That's where you come in," he replied as she got back on her feet.

Rory was surprised with his comeback. "No you did not!"

She slapped him on the arm in both surprise and disgust.

"I'm teasing, I'm teasing!" he caught her arm in his hands and pulled her close to him. "That's why there's a cleaning service that comes once a week. Obviously, he or she still hasn't cleaned this week."

He was so close. So close his arm hair tickled her forearms. A delicious heat seared through her. She felt herself inch toward him.

She was falling, and she knew she had to stop herself.

"Tristin," she whispered.

Just like that, he tried to swoop down for a kiss.

And she would have allowed it… If only the two things stopped her from proceeding: her inability to trust in love again and Katherine.

"Katherine," she whispered her name close enough or him to hear.

"What?" he asked.

"Katherine," she repeated, putting some distance between them. "I can't…."

"You're right," he said almost dismissively. He dropped her hand immediately and walked away from her.

Immediately, his façade went up and the wall was erected.

"I'm sorry. I didn't…." Rory apologized.

"Ah, I'm going to be ordering some pizza. We might as well get started moving in, shall we?" He changed the subject immediately, scratching his chin like he was in deep thought.

The coldness suddenly settled without preamble. "Sure."

"Pepperoni okay?"

"Sure," she agreed as he walked out of the bedroom.

Once again, she was all alone.

Wrinkling her forehead, she decided to give him space. She sat back down on his bed and thought, 'Why can't I make a decision on my own?'

She was so afraid about poaching someone else's goods. She hated the feeling when she had to go through it herself when she and Logan dated eons ago. She was not going to inflict such pain to someone else.

The trip between his car and the house was tension-filled. She filled two suitcases and a box full of her research material for several articles she was set to submit to the magazine. Tristin left her alone for the most part, disappearing into his office in the house, making phone calls and making arrangements with the local Velocity branch and his office in Philadelphia. The only time he helped her out was when she asked for it. Even at that, the conversation was stilted and short.

Rory never thought she would be grateful when the pizza finally arrived. She was on the way to answer the door when Tristin said, "I got it."

He hurried to her side and helped her carry in the goods. The scent of New York pizza made Rory's stomach grumble.

Tristin went into the kitchen and retrieved paper plates and disposable napkins. Rory followed suit and grabbed utensils and drinking cups. They laid their bounty on the tables. They sat, said nothing to each other and grabbed slices of pizza for themselves.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

"Okay, we can't keep doing this," Tristin finally conceded.

"Doing what?" Rory feigned innocence.

"This!" he exclaimed. "Damn it, we are married."

"Only on paper," Rory clarified.

"Fine, on paper. But we have to live like a couple that is married. I feel guilty enough that I am taking much of your private time," he confessed.

"Tristin, I signed. I gave in at the Philly office. If there's anyone for me to blame, I should blame myself." She paused, putting down the pizza slice. "I think I underestimated who and what I was getting myself into."

He blanched. "You're not planning on reneging now, are you?"

She paused. "No."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

"No, it's not good," Rory pointed out. "We are both miserable, we've been married for a week, apart from each other for a large amount of it, and the moment we're together we can't even agree."

"Well, Sugar, we're going down on this together," he grimly stated. "If we're going to have any semblance of a relationship we need to clear the air and set up some rules."

"Rules?"

"It's the only way I can think of for us to agree and not kill each other the next eleven months and change we are together," he reasoned.

Rory kept mum.

Tristin got out of his seat and went to the refrigerator. "Beer?"

"No, thanks. You have anything stronger?"

Tristin shut the refrigerator door and deposited the two long necks on the dining table before disappearing to the other room. Seconds later, he came back with a partially wrapped box, its card attached to it.

"What is it?" Rory asked.

"It's something that just got dropped off while you were unpacking," he said nonchalantly. He took the card out of the envelope and scanned its contents. Dropping the envelope on the table he continued on, "Apparently, our benefactor knows that we would be requiring courage from the spirits."

The box revealed the contents of a thirty-year-old Macallan Scotch and two flavored vodkas Rory loved.

"Did it say who it's from?"

"My guess is, the gods," he said. "Straight or on the rocks?"

"Cranberry if you have some," she answered shyly.

In five minutes, she had a tartini in front of her. Tristin cleared out the rest of their lunch and set a piece of paper in the middle of the table.

"For every rule we come up with, we drink," he ordered, handing the vodka and cranberry bottles to her.

"And if I disagree?" Rory asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Then we discuss," he said with an air of arrogance. "We have to agree and abide by what we decide."

Rory took a swig of her drink. Approving of the mixture, she agreed to the deal.

"I'm gonna start," he replied, clearing his throat the moment he uncapped his beer bottle. Upon raising it he said, "It will be law, which states in this house, there will be full discretion of each other's likes and dislikes."

"Isn't that a little broad?" Rory queried.

He shrugged his shoulders after a few seconds. "Well, like if I told you I don't like my stuff moved. You should respect that."

"That's why you should confine your mess in your room," Rory said.

"Exactly. So I would know when you've been in my room, Missy," he pointed the beer bottle at her.

"As long as you don't barge in on me while I'm in the bathroom, I will abide," she conceded, lifting her glass in agreement.

After she took her swig, she gave her rule. "I suggest that throughout this marriage, we are to talk things out when the small stuff starts bugging either of us. I am not fond of full arguments."

"Wow, non-confrontation from the debate queen?" he cajoled.

"See? This is why I think this agreement is not going to work," Rory sighed, slamming her glass down.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said. "I know what you mean."

He stared into Rory's eyes, trying to gauge her reaction on whether or not she bought his apology.

"It used to bug me when my dad made a spectacle of every little thing. I truly believe that a marriage would be so much better if people talked to each other and not at each other," he placated her.

"So, is that an agreement?"

"Yes," he said, downing his bottle.

After he unscrewed the second bottle, he started back up. "I suggest that we at least date once a week."

"Once a week?" Rory choked. "Date? You mean each other?"

"Well yeah," he said thoughtfully. "It would give us an excuse not to be at a luncheon or a dinner. I think we owe it to ourselves."

"Here, here!" Rory raised her glass and took a huge gulp of her glass.

They volleyed ideas back and forth until Tristin consumed at least half a pack and Rory had drank three glasses. She was feeling flushed and clumsy.

"I suggest no being semi-naked or naked around the house," she proposed.

"Now, that's probably something you might want to renege later," he said, a devilish grin played on his lips.

"When that happens, it will be the death of us," she said, chugging her glass empty.

"God, how many rules have we made?" Tristin asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I dunno. Too many?" Rory giggled. "We never wrote any of them."

"We'll remember… somehow," Tristin assuaged her without much confidence.

"I have to break the seal," Rory whined.

"We're almost done," Tristin tried to stop her.

"How sure are you?" Rory asked. "One more, and I am out of here."

"I suggest that throughout this marriage, we are to act like one."

Rory looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Tristin came around the table and closed in on her. "You won't flinch if I touch you. You'll accept my kiss when I offer it. I won't force you to hug me, but the more we can make this look authentic, the more tiresome the vultures will get."

Her skin tingled as he traced the outline of her hand on the table. The room suddenly felt like it was oven roasting hot. She had to get away.

Rory pulled her hand away and looked on the ground. "I really have to get an aspirin. I think I am getting a headache."

She got up and proceeded to head up the stairwell when he called after her. "Rory, I meant to give this to you."

Rory turned around and watched him fish something out of his pocket.

In a little felt lined sachet, Tristin dumped two rings on his palm. One was a diamond encrusted platinum Cartier that winked back at her at all angles. The matching engagement ring was a solid two-carat princess cut on a sliver of plain but highly polished platinum.

"I was going to give it to you last Friday but I forgot it in Philly," he shyly admitted.

"Tristin," she stuttered. "It's beautiful. I can't…."

"No, you have to. It is probably the only thing I will force you to do. Please, take it?" he said softly.

Rory offered her left hand to him as he slipped the jewelry on her finger.

"Thank you," she whispered. Taking a step back, "I do have to go."

She walked away biting her lower lip.

"Oh, and Rory? Don't mention Katherine again."

She froze on the stairwell and deliberated. "And if I do?"

"Let's just agree that it won't be beneficial for either of us."


	8. Clock Watching

CHAPTER 8

_A/N: Apologies for not getting this chapter out sooner. Life happens and then some. Plus FF was down for me to update so blame them._

Eleven twenty-one.

He had been staring down the clock since he got in three and a half hours ago.

It wasn't that the New York office was boring, but it was definitely a different pace. The Philadelphia office was usually teeming with people at least an hour before the workday officially started.

There was coffee and a few exchanged stories of everyone's weekends until one of the suits walked in.

Then the nine o'clock meeting took place. For an hour and a half, the boardroom would have coverage of Velocity's effect on the stock market followed by a status report of who needed a contract for planes. Like clockwork, one of the vultures usually chimed in a crude remark or two, and Tristin had to calm down the male-dominated room quickly and then ask the engineering department for any updates they may have to improve their products. Sometimes it would only last a minute or two, discussing more cost-efficient methods to improve their system. Sometimes, it would last an hour with them discussing improvements on technology from radars to engines to body construction.

This was the part of the meeting Tristin usually enjoyed. Being a closet science nut himself, he looked forward to the one thing he and his father shared: a passion for speed and flight.

Although Tristin never made it known that his passions for speed and flight were not just aimed at the skies. He wanted to make his own line of cars and motorcycles.

Eleven twenty-five.

He felt restless. The nine o'clock meeting they'd had two hours ago was a travesty. Aside from the fact that his new secretary disconnected him twice from the teleconference, the boardroom sounded like it was running amuck. The vultures were in top form today, interrupting him almost at every moment they could, ignoring half of the mandates he suggested, and carrying along without thinking he could hear everything.

His coffee tasted like lead. His office was drab.

He now remembered why he only stayed at the New York office very briefly. He usually worked from the cottage; alone and at a pace he was more comfortable with. The few times he made an appearance were when he had to make huge changes to the company; usually on Fridays, usually for an hour or two.

The people whom he once thought were people he could trust now seemed like incompetent jerks that did not care about anyone in the workplace but themselves. They were drones chained to their desks, working silently amidst the rhythmic white noise the computers and phones created.

He wished he could have Adrian at the New York office. He needed someone he can vent out his frustrations.

When his secretary came in a second later, he realized that he could have the next best thing.

Seconds later, he was back on the phone calling Philly.

"Velocity Enterprises, Amy speaking. How may I help you?" her voice was crisp and professional.

"How would you feel if I asked you to move to New York and work at the branch here?"

Eleven thirty-two.

All he had to do was close his eyes.

A blush crept up his neck, turning his freshly shaved face a slight shade of pink. He really should have admitted that he wanted to check up on Rory that evening when she suddenly ran away from him after he gave her the wedding rings.

_He remembered seeing her lying on her bed, wearing a baby blue tank top and boy shorts that exposed her long legs. Legs that he could just imagine entwined with his._

_He curled his fingers into a ball._

_He couldn't think of her that way._

_But he still entered her room after he knocked on the door so slightly. _

"_What's up?" she asked, sleepily._

"_Uh, I came to set up your wireless," he mumbled, stuttering like he got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar just before dinner._

_Rory just moaned and waved him away._

"_Are you okay?" he asked, dropping the wireless card on the desk before he tiptoed to the side of her bed._

_Rory's hand slowly touched the bump that lingered on her forehead. "Mount Vesuvius is planning on erupting, I believe."_

_Tristin leaned over and looked at the lump that still looked tender. His fingers reached out to pry her fingers away from the sensitive skin._

"_Please," she whispered. He watched the pulse at the base of her neck jump. The scent of minty-fresh breath fanned the hair that covered his arm._

"_Shh," he whispered back. He leaned over, his elbow grazing accidentally over the sensitive peak on her chest._

_She sighed once the cool fingers touched the tumor-like bump. _

"_I can get you an ice bag," he said. "Why didn't you tell me it was bothering you that badly? You might have a concussion!"_

"_I don't have one," she muttered, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and pulling it away from the lump._

_Tristin felt an electric shock burn through his veins when her digits melded on his skin. Her fingers traced the vein that bulged underneath his skin: teasing, taunting. He could feel the muscle between his thighs tighten as she glided her forefinger on the back and side of his hand._

"_You sure?" he asked, leaning forward to study the broken skin. He leaned forward brushing up against her taut nipple, hoping that the tension they both shared in the room was not just a figment of his imagination._

_He had to bite his lower lip as her eyes fluttered shut and her body arched toward him. The soft moan emitted from her lips almost made him want to tear her tiny boy shorts and enter her swiftly and deftly. _

_However, his body stopped him from acting on carnal knowledge._

_The scent of her lavender shampoo wafted, and he was titillated. He tucked her silky strands behind her ear, not wanting to break contact. He stretched out next to her, sinking on the comforter that was bunched to the side._

"_Very," she swallowed hard, trying her best not to meet his eyes._

"_I can sleep in here, you know. No need for sex," he said, crossing his fingers._

"_I'll be fine, Tristin," she answered wearily. "Weren't you here to hook up my computer?"_

_He finally pinned her cornflower-blue eyes. "Yeah."_

_He pushed up from the mattress, making sure all she could see was his posterior._

_He quickly hooked up the laptop and left the room with a hurried good night._

_Exiting the room was hard for him. However, taking the cold shower he promised himself as he stayed in Rory's room was the best reward for practicing self-restraint only a saint could muster._

Eleven thirty.

Rory was almost done with her morning errands. Filling out a change of address card, retrieving her car from the parking tower, picking up dry cleaning, and running to the bank took up most of her morning.

She felt refreshed.

Her grip tightened on the coffee cups she carried to the elevator.

She had to be insane.

On her first day of honeymoon vacation, she found herself going up the floor she spent most of her paid working life. Like a bad habit, Rory wanted to be in the office to "bond" with one of the few people she knew she could trust.

"I know you're not here on your honeymoon," Jackie scolded her as she snatched one of the coffee cups from Rory's hand.

"Nope. I am a figment of your imagination," Rory said as she followed Jackie to her office.

As the words escaped her lips, Jackie spat out her drink. "That's not real."

"What's not real?" Rory asked, her forehead wrinkled in concern.

"That," she pointed at the bauble she sported.

"Oh, this," Rory chuckled nervously. "It's, uh, my wedding ring."

"Wedding ring, my butt; that is a Cartier that can pay most of the third world countries' World Bank debt!" Jackie exclaimed, snatching her left hand for inspection.

"I take it you like?" Rory teased.

"Like? Hell, if he gave me jewelry like this I wouldn't mind being committed to a farce," Jackie said without thinking.

Rory froze as Jackie realized what she said. "Oh, crap… I am sorry."

Rory flashed her a weary smile.

"Oh my God, Rory. I am sorry. I didn't mean it that way…."

Rory wished she could correct her friend on the spot, but that meant she had to tell her all the gritty details.

"I so owe you more than an apology," Jackie anxiously looked around to see if anyone heard her off remark.

"It's fine, Jackie," Rory tried to assuage her. "I myself find it difficult to accept this fairy-tale life I am currently spinning."

"But I had no right!" Jackie wailed as she walked back to her office. "Especially not after what he sent me."

Rory noticed the big bouquet of flowers that sat on her desk. As far as Tristin's tastes ran, the Swarovski crystal vase the flowers currently occupied was nonetheless stellar.

"Yeah, he told me this morning that he had to thank you for giving me the week off," she chuckled as she made herself comfortable on the chair opposite Jackie's desk.

That wasn't all Tristin had said that morning.

_Really, she didn't know what to expect when she got up that morning. In her head, she just planned her errands._

_In her heart she planned on avoiding Tristin at all costs._

_She had to be embarrassed at how traitorous her body was when Tristin showed her a sign of sympathy._

_Shuddering at the thought of how quickly her body responded to his touch, she made an effort to stop herself from thinking that the next couple of months would always be like the one she just had._

_She just had to. Getting used to something that felt so good might just be her downfall._

_Rory cracked the door slightly and listened for sounds._

_Nothing._

_The morning light lit the hallway, making the house look eerie from within. Tightening the sash on her robe around her waist, she descended the steps._

_Upon reaching the landing, she noticed the dining room lights on. The scent of freshly brewed coffee tickled her nose as she approached the source._

_Then she saw him, sitting on the breakfast nook, reading the paper, and sipping a cup of coffee._

_He looked… handsome._

_It wasn't that she was blind to his physical appeal. If she were truly honest with herself, she would admit that he was downright sexy. But there was something that was more hypnotic than the clean but expensive haircut and the clean-shaven face he sported._

_He looked desirable._

_She didn't know how long she stood there staring at him, but in seconds he turned around to greet her._

"_Morning," he said, smiling bashfully. "Sleep well?"_

"_Uhm, yeah," Rory said reaching for the bump on her head. "The lump finally subsided."_

_Tristin frowned. "You sure? I'd want you to go to the ER if you weren't feeling well."_

"_I'm fine," she giggled. "I'll be alright."_

_They just exchanged looks. Running out of things to say, Tristin asked, "A cup of coffee?"_

"_Please," she responded, sitting at the barstool next to him. As she watched him deftly pour her a cup of the dark liquid, she launched her own series of questions._

"_So, what did you have for breakfast? I mean, are you the muffin or bagel kind? Or do you eat scrambled eggs and toast?"_

"_Planning on fattening the calf?" he teased._

"_Well you said so yourself that we need to learn to act like we know each other like any other married couple," she retorted defensively._

_Tristin laughed as he set the cup in front of her. "I eat whatever is available. Thank God we ordered pizza last night. I happen to love pizza for breakfast."_

_Rory looked at the crumbs on the plate. "I hope you at least reheated it."_

"_Well if my wife truly loved me, she would've woken up and heated up my meal!" he teased._

"_Sexist pig! You're disgusting," she replied, sticking her tongue at him._

_He laughed as he buttoned up the little button on his neck before securing his tie. "As much as I would love and stay to chat, I have to head to work."_

"_Aww, I'm sorry to hear that," she responded, placating him._

"_What time are you headed to work today?" he asked as he secured his briefcase._

"_I'm not. Jackie gave me the week off for our 'honeymoon,'" she answered, air-quoting the last word on her sentence._

"_Hmm, I guess she deserves a little something for being so generous," he replied._

_Rory walked out with him to the door. She had not realized that it was still too cool to walk out in nothing but a robe and last night's pajamas._

"_What do you want for dinner?" Rory asked him as he slipped into the driver's seat of the car._

"_Whatever your heart desires," he replied as he leaned out to give her a quick peck on the cheek._

"_Chicken hearts and beef liver," Rory replied in jest._

"_Yum. Can't wait to watch you eat it," he chuckled before driving away from the garage._

The sudden vibration on her hip woke her up from her daydream. Jackie had been talking to her non-stop, but she really had not digested anything she had said.

"Hold on," Rory interrupted her friend as she answered her mobile.

"What 'cha doin'?" Tristin's singsong voice boomed from her cell.

"Running errands. And you?" she asked, a twinkle appeared in her eye.

"Going crazy!" he replied. "It's a quarter to noon, and I am as bad as a kid in school waiting for the afternoon bell to ring," he moaned.

"You'll be fine," she placated him. "If you behave yourself, you might get a treat when you get home."

"Really? Can I have a cookie before dinner?" he played along.

"Maybe. After you do your homework," she stipulated. Jackie shot her a confused look.

"I don't wanna!" he whined.

"Tristin…," Rory said in return. "Be good."

"Oh, tell him thank you for the flowers," Jackie whispered loud enough for Rory to hear.

"Jackie says thanks for the flowers," she passed the word along.

"You're downtown?" he asked, reverting back to his adult voice.

"I told you I was running errands. I had to pick up my car," she argued.

"Oh," he said.

"Is there anything you want me to pick up?"

Silence.

"I was hoping I could take you out to lunch," he admitted.

Rory's face lit up. "I can be back in about an hour. Can you wait?"

"You don't have to, you know," he said tentatively.

"I would love to," she replied.

"Give me a ring if you're going to be late. Pick you up at home?" he asked.

"That would be great. Bye," Rory said before hanging up.

"Leaving me?" Jackie lipped.

"For now. Lunch with the husband," Rory clarified.

"You looked really happy just now," Jackie replied, getting up from her seat to give Rory a hug.

"I am," Rory sighed.

"Again, sorry?" Jackie wanted to make sure her earlier comment had been forgiven.

"Apology accepted," Rory said before giving her friend a final squeeze. "I'll talk to you later this week."

"Will be waiting," was Jackie's response.

Rory sped down the hallway to grab the elevator. She didn't know why she was so eager to get back.

Maybe she should be more careful of getting caught in her world of deception.

One forty five.

The trip back was almost impossible. What would usually be a forty-five minute drive almost became a commute from hell. She was late for her lunch date, and she was peeved.

"I'm sorry. Traffic…" she tried explaining her tardiness as she walked through the door.

"It's okay," Tristin chuckled as he got off the sofa. "Hungry?"

"Always," she grinned. "Where do you want to go?"

"Chinese?" he asked.

Rory agreed, and they both walked out the door.

Tristin brought her to a hole in the wall that had the tastiest lo mein she'd ever had. Shoving down the meal fast with her chopsticks, she barely had enough time to converse with her husband.

"Ever eaten before?" Tristin teased as he rearranged the Kung Pao on his plate.

"Sorry," Rory muffled, putting down her utensils.

"It's okay," he humored her. "I just want to make sure you came up for air before choking down the rest of your meal."

Rory managed a chuckle as she swallowed the food in her mouth. "So, work's that bad?"

Tristin gave her a play-by-play breakdown on the events of the day. Rory was amused by the incompetence of his current team.

"I should fire each and every one of them," he ended up saying.

"That would leave for a quiet workplace," Rory said.

"Nothing different from what is happening now," he retorted.

"So, what are you going to do now?" she asked.

He looked at his food and took a few bites. "I don't know. I surely don't want to go back to that place."

Rory nudged him with her shoulder. "Then take the afternoon off. You are the president."

The concept was totally lost on Tristin. "You can't be serious."

"I am!" Rory replied. "I thought that was one of the perks of owning your own business."

He mulled over her suggestion.

His father never missed a day of work and neither had he. It wasn't that he hated work. He just hated being… there.

"I can't," he sighed.

"Then work at home," she suggested. "I promise not to bug you unless you want me to."

The idea had its appeal. He already had Amy fax all the reports to the machine at home, and whatever he had to work on was accessible from the computer he used at the cottage.

Taking her up on the idea, both finished their meals and headed out to the grocery store to pick up something they could easily stick in the oven for dinner.

Six twenty four.

The afternoon passed quickly for Tristin. Rory, true to her word, stayed away as he crunched numbers and went through contracts. Making his phone calls, he realized that he was more efficient than his first hours that morning. When he finally called it quits for the day, he looked up at the clock. It was the most productive afternoon he had in ages.

Moseying out to the kitchen, he found Rory scouring the kitchen cabinets.

"Need help?" he asked.

"No," Rory said heatedly. Letting out a sigh of frustration, she changed her answer. "Yes."

"What do you need?"

Eyeing the oven, "I don't know how to turn this monster on."

"What do you mean you don't … oh," he replied. He looked at the complex dials on the range top. There were dots and circles and numbers, but he didn't know what corresponded with what.

"Well, we can go for the trial and error method," he suggested.

Rory took out the covered manicotti dish they purchased that afternoon from the oven and placed it on top of the counter.

She turned on the first dial and peered into the oven.

"That can't be it," she said.

Tristin leaned over. "Try the next one."

Before he knew it, radiating heat pulsated onto his hand as the ceramic top tried cooking his palm.

"Damn!" he pulled his hand away from the burning top.

Rory looked at his hand, dragged him from the wrist and stuck his hand under the running cold water. "Didn't your mom teach you to not put your hand on top of a stove?"

He could hear the anger in her voice. "No," he replied calmly as his shaking hand absorbed the coolness of the liquid.

"You should have known better," Rory replied. She was upset.

"Rory, calm down. It's not that bad!" he said as the pain subsided.

"Not bad?" she freaked out. "I hurt you. I was trying to make dinner, and instead I cook your hand."

"I've been told I am tasty," he teased her. "Hannibal might want to try your recipe."

"This is not a joking matter!" Rory said tersely.

She left the room for a moment, quickly returning with a first aid kit in her hand. She patted his hand as much as she could before applying some ointment on it and wrapping it in a bandage.

The silence was eerie.

Tristin watched her figure out the oven by herself. After a few more trials and errors, she got the oven working. No thanks to him, dinner would be a quiet affair.

Seven fifteen.

She had the meal sitting on their table.

Only the sound of traffic from the road interrupted the silence.

Tristin hated it.

"Rory, I am sorry."

"I should be the one sorry," Rory said. "If I knew what I was doing, I would've not gotten you injured."

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself," he chided her. "I've been in this cottage off and on for the past year, and I didn't know how to operate it. Give it a break."

Rory looked at him wearily.

"Come on. I'll scoop out some ice cream. We can eat it while we're watching TV," Tristin suggested.

They sat next to each other in comfortable silence as they took turns flipping through the channels.

Ten twelve.

Rory hadn't realized that she curled up next to Tristin.

She didn't want to get used to this. She couldn't.

Getting up, she policed the ice cream bowls they used.

"Where are you going?" he asked innocently as he turned off the TV.

"I think I am hitting the sack," she said. "How's the hand?"

He raised the bandaged appendage.

"There's more…."

"I can take care of myself, Rory," he said softly.

Rory lowered the bowls back on the coffee table. She was about to say something when Tristin stopped her.

"Thanks for a wonderful afternoon. I wouldn't change it for the world."

Rory looked surprised. She picked up the bowls again and disappeared. As soon as she reached the bottom step, she paused. "I had fun, too, Tristin."

He smiled.

"Good night," she replied before ascending.

Tristin watched her as she disappeared to the second floor. He waited until he heard her door shut before turning the TV back on.


	9. Only Stars Can Mess Things This Well

CHAPTER 9

_AN: Before I start, I just want to say thank you to all who have been patient enough to wait for this chapter. It's been a long while, hasn't it? I am going to attempt to finish this in the next couple of weeks but don't hold me to it._

_Thanks again to the Ickles, mainly Ames and K for being a sounding board and for stopping me from deleting this chapter and rewriting it for the millionth time._

_Have fun reading this. The action is going to pick up soon._

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

How could forty-eight hours change history? Apparently enough that Tristin's neat boundaries of sanity and control had been contorted enough that he cannot distinguish lunacy from reality.

So many changes transpired within that time frame, and yet he felt like everything he did left him at a standstill. He wanted to witness the metamorphosis of what could have been the biggest life-changing event of his life, and yet he had found himself stuck in a transatlantic flight, away from his chameleon of a wife, Rory.

"Mr. DuGrey, do you care to respond?" Amy asked.

He looked up at his secretary, who seemed to look alert and alive at nine in the morning... On a Saturday... on Frankfurt time.

"Herr Weissmuller asked what you think you can give him as reassurance that you will not take the creative control from under him," she reiterated.

Rubbing his brows, he said, "Tell him that I am not taking control of anything. I just want the company's assets. Is that so hard?"

Amy stared him down.

Tristin rolled his eye. "Fine. Tell him..." Tristin elaborated that his plans were not for a hostile takeover. He just needed a European branch of Velocity.

If there was one thing Tristin was least interested in, it was turning a profit in a failing franchise. He had eyed FC1 Fluglinie, a local fleet of planes that serviced the local region and the western European region, for the past two years not because of its low profit margins but its potential. Closing this deal would be a significant notch under his belt without having his father's shadow cast over him or the dealing. It would be all him.

"And his team?" Amy asked Tristin as she translated Mr. Weissmuller's arguments.

"He can keep his damned team. I really don't care," Tristin whined in boredom. Arguing over semantics of whom the German company would retain was the least of his concerns. All he wanted was a good night's sleep, a flight back to New York, and hopefully a do-over date with Rory.

"Mr. DuGrey!" Amy chided him.

"Honestly, Herr Weissmuller, nothing changes," he said in German, albeit haltingly. "You will still have control over everything. The only thing that changes is that you will have our support and stock. You will be well compensated according to the contracts we have presented, which is very lucrative," he pointed out. "Lastly, your fleet will be serviced at more stations and will be more flexible for flight change, pilots, and service contracts. What else do you want?"

Amy was as surprised as Mr. Weissmuller at his succinct explanation and accuracy with the German language.

Mr. Weissmuller was taken aback. The tall lean man stood up and excused himself from the room. He said that he had to take some time to look over the contracts again. He was followed out by the two lawyers in the room, leaving the secretary and the company's vice president fiddling in silence. Shortly after that, the rest of the German conglomerate left the room for a smoke break.

Tristin welcomed the silence as Amy excused herself to powder her nose.

Resting his eyes, all he could picture was Rory's face the morning he had to leave for this trip.

_"I thought you overslept," he asked, staring at her fresh face, morning-kissed and fresh that Friday morning._

_She smiled at him as she welcomed the dark beverage he offered her. "No, just didn't bother to set the alarm last night."_

_"Up late?" he asked, remembering that she went up to her room after watching TV past ten._

_"No, not really," she replied, taking a sip from the cup. "Read a little but that was it. How about you?"_

_"I had to go through some documents faxed to me late yesterday," he said, watching Rory as she expertly maneuvered a toaster pastry from its wrapper. "It seems like someone from the other company is giving us a hard time with the merger."_

_"That doesn't sound like fun," Rory empathized. "You think it'll keep you occupied all weekend?"_

_"Not unless you want it to monopolize my time," he quipped, shooting her a mischievous grin. "Are you trying to weasel your way out of our date tonight?"_

_Rory was a little surprised by his response, not because it seemed like it was some duty he was bound to, but because he truly sounded like he was looking forward to the event. "N... no. I just wanted to make sure..."_

_"You thought I forgot?" he paused to make a point. "I'm just teasing. I do hope that the crisis can be averted. Heaven help us all if this drags out longer than it's supposed to."_

_He got up from his seat and carefully rinsed his plate over the sink. "How about you? Any plans for your last day of the honeymoon?"_

_She giggled. The word seemed so strange to both of them. "I don't know," she muttered. "I guess I have to address the current state of boxes conquering the corner and send out the thank you cards."_

_"I can ask my secretary to do that for you if you make the list," he volunteered impishly._

_"That's okay, I think I can handle it," Rory replied, smiling._

_"What?" he took a mocking stance of defense._

_"It's just... you depend too much on your secretary," Rory said._

_"There's nothing wrong with it," he defended himself. "She is getting paid rather handsomely."_

_"Well, what would your secretary say about one of your friends gifting us the Kama Sutra? Wouldn't that motherly face of a secretary of yours just faint?"_

_Tristin laughed as the mental picture emerged from his imagination. "It would rather be interesting. She might actually crack up a smile." Taking a bite out of Rory's pastry, he added, "Now, it would be your friends that would be sending that crap your way. The people on my end know I need no book to tell me how to do things right the first time."_

_"I will eventually wipe that smirk off your face," Rory threatened playfully._

_"Hmm, we'll see," he winked playfully as he policed his coat and his briefcase. "Make sure you don't schedule a headache tonight."_

_"And if I did?" Rory coyly asked before Tristin left through the front door._

_"I'll give you something to have a headache over," he threatened. "See you later!"_

_"Later," she called out before the door shut behind him._

He didn't think that the later would last this long. He never thought that "later" would translate to something more in the ominous future. However, a snort escaped his throat as he remembered the Kama Sutra reference. How would have Amy felt writing a thank you letter for such a present? The idea was so preposterous he had to chuckle at the experience.

...oooo0-0oooo...

Rory needed to stop waking up like this.

Considering she was supposed to have a date with her husband last night, going home with her best friends, tipsy as sin, wasn't the way she really wanted to end the evening.

She raised her head from the pillow and stared at her stockings.

Great, another run. And a stain on her favorite rose-colored Armani dress! Apparently, trying to set the right mood just meant another disaster, this time costing her a hefty dry cleaning bill and another set of stockings.

She had planned everything. After editing a short article about "Enticing the Unenticeable" in next month's issue of "Feminine Mistique," she thought she'd give Tristin a run for his money and make him have a headache. She deliberately chose the Armani over the Caroline Herrera outfit she bought at deep discount after a photo shoot for the magazine.

The smoke-colored stocking with the solid stripe running down the back of her leg accentuated her sleek stems. And despite the still- slippery road conditions, she dared herself to wear her Christian Louboutin shoes her mother had tried coveting from her when Jackie surprised her with the pair on her last birthday.

Sadly, no matter how much history peppered the ensemble she wore, none of it would have predicted the absence of a history in a relationship she hoped would've taken a turn for the more "interesting" that evening.

Friday was supposed to be a benchmark on things left uncertain in her during her short state of wedded bliss. However, the day passed leaving her future murkier than muddied waters.

_Stepping into the Velocity office this time around was less threatening. Granted, the glass panes and high profile images of men in black and women in power suits were not as stand-offish. Even the pacing of the people marching back and forth through cubicles and doors was not as overwhelming._

_She shrugged off her coat and walked toward the receptionist to ask for Tristin. After being given a cursory glance, the receptionist called Tristin's office to ask permission for her to come in. Seconds later, she was directed to his domain._

_Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed his door half opened. She ran her right hand on the side of the hair to slick back any wayward strands. She paused at the empty secretarial desk, apparent that work was in motion with papers haphazardly piled and scattered in multiple directions._

_Then she emerged._

_Amy Richards squeezed through the door left ajar. Her hair was tousled, a pencil holding the messy bun in place near her nape. She was shuffling the papers in her hands when she looked up._

"_Oh, Mrs. DuGrey!" she expressed in surprise._

"_Miss Richards…." Rory returned the awkward greeting. "I didn't know you worked here."_

_Amy blushed and put the papers on her desk, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, isn't it great? Tris-, I mean Mr. DuGrey needed someone who knew how he worked, so he asked me to move north… It's my first day today."_

"_Well, congratulations." What was she supposed to say?_

"_Uhm, before anything else…" Amy said, "I just want to apologize."_

"_Apologize? For what?" Rory suddenly blushed, clutching the pendant on her neck unconsciously._

"_For being rude," she clarified. "Last week, I didn't know what was going on and things… were moving too fast."_

_Rory nodded. There was something about the apology that left her stunned._

"_Ames, call Adrian. Tell him I didn't approve line 23, paragraph 66, and line 8 on the last page," Tristin rambled. His tie was undone and the first three buttons on his crisp shirt were undone. Rory had to shift to hide her sudden arousal from Amy. "Have my shirts arrived?"_

"_Ah," Amy's eyes shifted between Rory and her boss. _

"_Rory!" Tristin's tired eyes suddenly lit as he put the folder down on Amy's IN box. He came from around the desk and gave his wife a hug. "You… look… breathtaking."_

"_Why thank you," Rory replied, her cheeks turning a deeper crimson than it already was. "Thought I would come over to see if I can tear you away from all this work and start our date earlier?"_

_Tristin took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. "About that."_

"_No!" Rory pulled her lip down and gave him her best puppy dog eyes. "Can't you postpone it?"_

"_Not today, babe," he said in regret. "I have to fly out to Germany tonight."_

_Rory diverted her eyes and looked at the dark carpet. _

"_You wanna come?" he invited her. "Hopefully it would be done in 48 hours or so."_

"_I have to be back to work Monday," Rory said softly. "So… no date?"_

"_A rain check?" he asked._

"_I guess. It's not for a headache," she said ruefully._

"_Excuse me, Mr. DuGrey, it's the flight team. They want to know when you want to depart," Amy interrupted them._

"_I'll leave you be," Rory said, pulling away from Tristin._

"_I'll call you when I get there," Tristin promised. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"_

"_I drove," Rory replied, donning on her coat. "I'll see you when I see you?"_

_Tristin was already on the phone. All Rory saw as she walked away was Amy pulling out a travel suitcase from the closet._

Despite the rocky start in their marriage, she and Tristin started to get a routine down during the honeymoon phase. The breakfast habit, the daily calls, and the playful touches and kisses started becoming second nature, so much so that she didn't have to pretend that she liked the attention. The ritual was amazingly soothing.

If only it did not remind her of someone from her past!

Stripping off her stockings, she donned her robe and headed down the stairwell. Tiptoeing down the stairs, her eyes were diverted to the sight of Jackie and Jess quietly snoring and snuggling each other on the pullout bed in the living room.

Rory paused just right outside of the kitchen and stared at the sleeping figures, losing herself in thoughts of yesterday.

He didn't forget their date. She was giddy, focusing back on the horrendous day Tristin was greeted by the family. Although she would prefer to forget the Gilmore debacle, the date they had later that night still left her tingling.

Now, she just had to trust him on the rain check he promised her. Should she dare compare the dates when it happens?

Sighing, she fixed a pot of fresh brew and hoped that her drinking buddies would wake up when the coffee tickled their noses.

---oooo0---0oooo---

Katherine was learning to cope. It was slow, but she was getting there. However, conspiring with someone that might be the "enemy" may just let her slip a bit from her recovery.

It had been over a week and the media speculation about her suddenly single status had finally passed as Paris Hilton grabbed the headlines for doing another C-lister in the Hollywood scene on tape.

She was grateful for the diversion. It helped her lick her personal wounds in private. She should've known that recuperation would be short-lived as she postponed her mourning period for a meeting with Velocity's top trustee, Marc Lott.

Mr. Lott had really thrown her for a loop when he spoke to her after courting her publicist mercilessly for an urgent meeting that Friday afternoon. He was a sharp man, baiting her into a conference over something she took personally, whether it identified her with Tristin or otherwise.

She met the man twice in passing and never liked him. He reminded her of a slick weasel that made dirty arrangements in secret rooms. Yet, when he appealed to her and promised her a handsome sum to be the face of the AIDS pediatrics fundraiser, she couldn't help but listen to his sales pitch to garner her alliance.

The pot was rather sweet. His appeal made her listen to what he had to offer. For some odd reason, she felt more convinced about the project when Mr. Lott showed resentment for the newly wedded Tristin. Like the old coot, she knew that something had to be wrong with Tristin's sudden satisfaction with his state of matrimony.

Her ex-boy toy could not be that happy. He couldn't be that excited over his new wife who was a virtual no one in a society filled with more luminescent personalities. Contentment was something that never existed in her former lover's vocabulary, and she refused to believe that his current distraction was the real thing.

She stared at her iPod Nano hoping it would give her an answer to her questions like an eight ball toy. When the device stared at her blankly she sighed. Slowly and methodically, she zipped up her sweat suit. She shoved the musical device in her left pocket. Her hand was on the knob when the phone rang.

The phone rang once. Then twice. Wincing, Katherine hesitantly turned around and answered the annoying device.

"So, did you close the deal?" Darrin Martin cooed in her ear.

"What's it to you?" Katherine answered, bored.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it means you can get back at your man?" he said conspiratorially.

"What makes you think I would need to get back at Tristin?" Katherine picked on imaginary lint on her couture.

"Because I am your rep, and I know little Kitty has claws and wants to show the world that he's missing out on a good deal by dropping you like a hot potato," he added as she could hear him suck a cigarette on the other end. "Plus, you wouldn't meet up with Lott if you weren't curious about his agenda."

"I am doing the fundraiser, but not because Marc Lott has a say it," Katherine said slowly. "I don't need Tristin to define me."

"But you need to show him that you're better off without him!" Darrin implored. "Plus, you get to rub it in with, technically, his money."

"So what if Lott is my biggest sponsor?"

"Marc Lott wanting you in the annual Pediatric Foundation Fundraiser at the New York Trump International is not about charity," Darrin said, his voice drooling over the information. "It's about power."

"Whatever," Katherine replied raised her perfectly arched eyebrow in boredom.

"Seriously," Darrin confirmed. "Rumor has it that the senior Trustee does not like the current conjugal state of one Tristin DuGrey, and he was hoping that you can help sway the newly married man from the straight and narrow."

Katherine was tempted to fish for more information. "Careful, Darrin. If I didn't know you any better I would think that you are the one that really wants revenge on Tristin."

She was upset, but she was not malicious.

"I love drama and you better provide it," Darrin warned her. She could picture the tall man seething in his Kenneth Cole loafers. "Plus, fresh infamy may give you an edge to carry the fall Escada collection if you get hot this season."

"Look, Darrin, it's Saturday. The last thing I want to do is think of fall when spring hasn't even arrived. I really am not up to talking shop anyway, and all I want to do is vent," Katherine dismissed him as she looped one of the earbuds on her ear. "I'll give you a ring after my workout... No, scratch that. Make it Monday, and well after I've done my yoga."

"Fine, bitch," he called out to her lovingly.

"Noonish. I'll see you at Davio's."

Clicking her publicist away, she hoped that the trip to the racquetball club would clear her head.

---oooo0---0oooo---

Rory fidgeted with her napkin as she watched Jess and Jackie fight over the last Cinnabon roll she toasted in the oven.

"Nothing is more rotten than making a poor cinnamon roll suffer," Jess stated, poking the outer crust of the roll.

"Well eat the damned thing if you're so desperate!" Jackie dared him, knowing that he could care less about consuming the sweetened dough.

"Yeah, Jess, you could stand to gain some weight," Rory said, trying to bait him.

"What is this, 'Pick on Mariano' Day?" he asked, plunking down the fork noisily on the plate.

"You want it or not?" Jackie asked, reaching out for the tasty morsel.

"Be my guest," he offered.

The coffee mugs had been topped off, and Rory felt a little better. Getting her mind off Tristin's sudden departure made the day a little more bearable despite the soft thudding in her head.

"Look, Rory, I think you need to tell this P.O.S. husband of yours to either be a man and do what's right by you or you walk out," Jess said after taking a gulp of his black coffee.

"It was an emergency," Rory defended.

"My ass!" Jess retorted. "With his secretary?"

It was a little strange that Tristin never mentioned having Amy around. She knew that she was his right hand woman in Philadelphia, but the thought never occurred to her that he might actually want her around when he made the transition to the New York offices.

"True," Jackie added nonchalantly as she polished off her cup. "Don't you think her sudden appearance is a bit too coincidental?"

Shrugging of their suspicions, Rory defended her husband. "Jackie, you know how hard it is to get good help. Maybe Amy is that good?"

"On her knees, or are you referring to work-work?" Jess retorted, making obscene massaging gestures with his hands. "Because if she's that precious, man…."

"Why do you have to be so gross?" Jackie spewed, tossing her napkin at Jess. "I just would like to warn you that she may not have the best intentions, Sweets."

Rory wrinkled her nose and pretended to accept her best friend's advice. It was a little hard trying to keep her relationship a secret when she herself was starting to doubt it.

The ringing of her cell phone disrupted the conversation. Jess was trying to tell Rory that he was going to give Amy a once over to make sure she knows that being professional does not mean she has to be very personal with the boss when Rory tuned him out.

"So, have you received Fernando yet?" her mother's voice piped through the lines.

"Hmm, only if you explain to me why regifting your non-wedding present to me seems appropo since I am your only daughter," Rory replied wryly at her mom's attempt at humor.

---oooo0—0oooo---.

Sunday morning came and the sun was barely peeking behind the mountains. Tristin closed the door behind him slowly, not wanting to disturb the silence. He felt triumphant closing the Velocity deal before the end of that Saturday.

He chuckled. He thought he scared Amy after the Germans hemmed and hawed over trivial facts. But Tristin wanted to be home. If he didn't know better, he'd have guessed his Philadelphia team tried to sabotage the deal so he could be away from Rory.

Rory. He never thought that being away from her would mean this much to him.

Shaking his head, he took off his shoes and bound the steps two at a time. Instead of making a left to his room, he took a step to the right, like his feet had their own mind.

He opened her door. She was on her bed, slumbering quietly. Her book was open, a finger marking her page.

Slowly, he sat by her bedside and took the book from her. He took the marker from her bedside table. She stirred a bit and turned her back on him. He chuckled as he pulled the sheets over her shoulder. He tucked the stray hair from her face.

"Good night," he said before walking out.

About an hour later, Rory stirred. Looking around, it was still dark and gray. She wrinkled her eyebrows.

Was she dreaming?

She noticed her book on the bedside table. She didn't recall putting it there. Maybe in her tired state she had actually put something away for once.

However, she thought something was amiss. Did she dream that Tristin came to her room? Did she hear him chuckle?

Maybe it was just a dream.

Well, if it were a dream, his scent had somehow followed her from her subconscious to reality.

Rory propped herself up on her elbows, deliberating.

Part of her wanted to creep down the hallway and hope against hope that her significant other had come home. Part of her just warned her about being a goofball, dreaming about a relationship built on sand, ready to collapse as the tide rushes in.

A groan of disappointment escaped from her lips. How foolish of her to think that Tristin would actually want to see her after forty eight hours of wheeling, dealing and traveling!

Letting out a sigh, she chastised herself and drew the sheets over her shoulder. Now she was realizing what happens to people who deal with the devil.


	10. Cinderella's Conundrum

CHAPTER 10

_AN: It's been a while since my update. Thanks for sticking around. Hope this chapter would suffice. I'd like to thank my beta, Amy, for being a pal. She went through this with a fine toothcomb and I couldn't be more grateful._

_Now, on with the show!_

_**********_

Cold showers: that was what she had been reduced to. She was not fond of using arctic waters to chill her hot vivid thoughts of her unsuspecting husband. She so wished he was not as clueless to her nasty dreams and he'd make a move. Playing the nice, safe wife at that point was beyond torturous.

It wasn't like he asked her to stay away. However, since his return from Germany, the suddenly invisible barrier erected between them had made it harder for her to him as a roommate.

It started with the all-business attitude he had developed overnight. Despite being dressed in tattered Columbia shirts and Joe Boxer oversized shorts, he began walking around the house and doing nothing but talking to his Bluetooth and fingering though documents and faxed forms. During his work marathon, he left half-drunk cups of coffee all around the house. His bedroom was littered with the mugs. Sometimes he'd forget that he already had stuck a pencil behind his ear while he constantly searched for a writing utensil.

He was the absent-minded spouse, and she was losing herself in the whirlwind he had created.

And yet, she still didn't know where she stood with him. His first week back, she made sure that she remained open and receptive despite the professional camaraderie they created moments after they signed the contracts at the Velocity office. When all he said was "hi" and "bye" and the occasional "how did your day go?" when he caught dinner with her, curiosity on her behalf made her professionalism slip to something akin to being casual. She walked around in a tank top and flannel pajamas, her robe usually adorning her shoulders. By week three, she knew that if she pranced around in her underwear, he would've just respectfully asked her to put some pants on before the neighbors did so.

It took a whole month to realize the honeymoon stage was over—not that they'd had one to start out with.

She sighed and stared at the white legal pad in front of her. If she weren't so worried about the state of her marital affairs, she wouldn't have the problem that faced her right now.

"So tell me again what you're wearing tonight. I don't want us looking like twins," Jackie said as she sashayed into her cubicle and sat on the padded chair right across from her desk.

"I was thinking color, but that would make me stand out," Rory muttered, tapping the pen on her desk.

"Color is in!" Jackie replied. "Have you seen the Balenciaga collection? Lots of color, lots of flowing lines. I think you could pull it off. Since the women of _Grey's Anatomy_ started attending red carpet affairs in color, couture houses seemed to realize that outfits could be made in a color other than black."

"I am not trying to make a statement," Rory guffawed.

"You're not?" Jackie raised a brow at her. "You are being honored tonight for actually doing that."

"That's different," Rory muttered. "I just… I just cannot seem to commit to this affair."

"Rory, look at me," Jackie ordered her.

Slowly, Rory lifted her eyes to meet her friend's gaze.

"Rory, I know you too well. You are the girl that doesn't pay much attention to fashion labels, but you're acquainted with them. You aren't Carrie Bradshaw, but you dress to impress," she listed. "You make a statement by just being you!"

"Your point is?"

"My point is, you, my friend, are distracted, and that isn't good," Jackie said.

"I'm not," Rory responded too quickly.

"Then why do I feel like you are… not here?" Jackie asked. "You've been walking around like a zombie, very rarely looking up from your work. You grunt when someone asks you a question, and you still haven't asked me if Jess and I have had sex."

"You guys had sex?" Rory asked a little louder than usual as she was caught a little off guard. "Are you guys back together?"

"Welcome back. I didn't know you were listening," Jackie said with a wicked grin painted on her face. "No, we haven't had sex. God knows I need some action though."

"That never stopped you from asking him to relieve your stress," Rory hinted.

"Honey, that's all talk. I haven't shared my boudoir with him since we broke up," she sighed. "I've been tempted to ask him to scratch the itch though."

Rory laughed out loud.

"What, like you…" Jackie's voice trailed off. "That's it!"

"What's it?"

"You aren't getting any, and that's why you're distracted!" Jackie said with too much glee.

"Can you just hush?" Rory tried to lunge from across her table and cover her friend's mouth. "And even if it was true, it is not up for discussion."

"Why shouldn't it be? We are _Feminine Mistique_. We talk about sex, politics, and the cultural ramifications of people who make sex and politics a topic worth discussing," Jackie said. "If the pages of our magazine can talk about Rosie O'Donnell's sexual life and her stance on the Iraqi war, we can discuss why Tristin DuGrey's wife isn't getting any and she's only been married to the guy for roughly two months."

"I never said I wasn't getting any," Rory argued, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of crimson.

Jackie dragged her seat closer to Rory. In a whisper she asked, "Is he not that endowed? Too kinky for you? Do you fake it?"

"Jackie, I love you, but this isn't a topic up for conversation," Rory responded as she got out of her seat.

"Then tell me why you're so tense," Jackie asked, leaning against her backrest.

"I just…" Rory leaned against her filing cabinet. "I am just nervous about tonight. I mean, I am getting the Spirit Award, for God's sake."

"And you deserve it," Jackie said with conviction.

The Spirit Award was given by the Women's League, an independent non-profit organization that awarded women for making strides in improving women's involvement within the society.

In the debut issue of _Feminine Mistique_, Rory wrote a feature called "10 Regular Women Who Could Be President." Not only had the article boosted the visibility of the women and their jobs that had been featured, but also the article itself had been requested to be reprinted in several heavily circulated magazines and newspapers.

"I don't know," Rory mumbled. "I feel so fake receiving this award."

"What does Tristin think about it?"

Rory lowered her eyes. "He doesn't know."

"He what?" Jackie's eyes got saucer-wide. "You didn't tell him?"

"He's been busy," she said.

"Honey, you have known about this event since just before you married the guy. You had enough time to tell him that one of the most important events of your life is happening tonight."

"Again, he's been busy. You've read in the papers how busy he is getting his newly acquired flight line up and running," she said. "Besides, we've had this moment planned long ago. You know; you, me, and Jess going as a trio to each other's award ceremonies, drinking ourselves stupid."

"That was before FM got off the ground and before you got married," Jackie pointed out. "You have to let Tristin in your life, you know."

"He is!"

"Not according to what you just told me," Jackie countered. A pause came between them before she spoke again. "What are you so afraid of?"

----oooo0---0oooo-----

His sanity was shot.

He hadn't slept well since Rory slipped under his sheets Sunday night after he got back from Germany.

And he thought he had her figured out.

"_I don't want to go back to work tomorrow," she whined the evening before her return to the publication. _

_She wore a pair of dark blue flannel pajamas peppered with pretty little snowflakes. The matching flannel pajama top made her look like a ten-year-old girl rather than the twenty-five year old she really was._

_It didn't help that she shoved the papers he'd stacked up in piles on his bed in a disheveled mess and sprawled tummy down on the large mattress._

"_You know you don't have to work," he said, grinning. "I could give you an allowance."_

"And then I'd do what? Eat bonbons and watch soaps?" she asked.

"_If that's your hobby," he shrugged._

_She picked out a piece of paper from the pile and stared at it. "I thought I'd pick hang gliding as a hobby, but I hate anything resembling exercise and the fact that I literally am flying to my own death."_

"_Sort of like people on motorbikes are considered hamburgers?" he asked, gazing back at the papers he had in his hands._

"_More like a bug going straight for a windshield on a car driving at top speed," Rory said._

_After she stared at the paper longer she asked, "Do you really like what you're doing?"_

"_It has its moments," he answered vaguely._

_A gleam appeared in her eye. "I know what you mean…. Speaking of which, I have this thing happening that's work related and I was wondering…."_

_The phone rang and interrupted Rory's request. He looked at the blinking line, and it was the line reserved for emergencies._

_Cursing, he looked at her and muttered, "Let me take this call."_

_He could tell from the look in her eyes that whatever she was going to ask was something rather big. Her eyes vacillated between him and the paper in her hand. Somehow, the look of innocence on her face made him feel irritated with himself for taking the call._

_He studied her intently as he answered with a series of 'uhuh's and 'no's to a problem that should've been handled by the Philly office. _

_He didn't mind that the call was fielded to him. What he hated was that the call was lasting longer than he anticipated._

_She pushed herself off of the mattress and started getting on her feet. She was headed out of the room when he blocked her way and grasped her arm. "Wait!" he whispered._

_He finished his call as she waited patiently._

_Finally, the call ended. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "So, where were we when we were rudely interrupted?"_

"_Don't worry about it. It's nothing, really," she said shyly._

"_Come on. What is it? You said it was work related. Need me to tell Victoria that she should stop stealing your Post-it notes?"_

"_You think you're a comedian, don't you?" she said in humor._

"_I promise I will tell her nicely that if she needs any Post-it notes, I will buy them for her," he said wickedly. A lopsided grin spread on his face. "And she doesn't have to sleep with me to get them."_

_All he did was take a step toward her and feel her breath against his skin. Her head tilted up slightly toward him. Her lips were slightly moistened by the tip of her tongue. The scent of strawberry lip balm enticed him to savor the lips it covered._

_Rory blushed at his suggestion. "Has anyone told you you're sick?"_

"_You can spank me for being naughty," he suggested. "Seriously, what do you need?"_

"_Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."_

"_Okay," he sighed. "Well… is there anything I can help you out with? Redecorate your room? Write an excuse letter for you to get out of work? An invite to join you in bed?"_

"_Good night, Tristin."_

"_What, you think I will ruin your reputation?"_

"_I'm more afraid that you're going to make me late for my date with my alarm clock," she said sarcastically._

And that was that. He attempted from that day on to keep his distance. Whether it be staying late at the office or taking his work home, he was hell bent to keep his hands off her. He knew that his libido needed some much-needed attention when even a sweet, innocent pajama set and a well-worn robe was starting to look downright sexy on Rory. It took all his strength to walk out on her without breaking down and demanding his spousal right.

It was the reason he was prickly as a bear with a sore paw. The headache that just constantly pounded was just the kicker. At three o'clock, he was ready to go home and slip under the sheets.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and just when he almost reached a point of clarity, the intercom jarred.

"Yeah," he answered the buzz.

"Your three o'clock appointment is here, Mr. DuGrey," Amy's voice filled the room.

"Give me a few minutes. I'll come out and meet him," he said.

------

"Mr. DuGrey will be with you in a few minutes," Amy Richards informed the young man in front of her.

"Thank you," he said in return as he sat on the couch at the little reception room.

Picking up a magazine from the coffee table, he decided to make himself comfortable. The leather seats were enticing; the reading material was current and informative. He wished he could be relaxed, but woman in front of him kept him on the edge.

"So, been here long?" he asked.

"Is this supposed to be on the record or off the record?" Amy asked.

"Do you want this to be on the record?" he volleyed back.

"Mr. Mariano, I do not have the time or the inclination to play a game that only horny teenagers play," Amy answered.

"Hey, I was just being polite," Jess spat back.

"I've learned at an early age that people who pretend to be polite aren't," she replied bluntly.

Putting up a defense, he retorted, "Whoa, who stuck the stick up your ass? Or were you born with it?"

"For your information…" Amy got up from her seat and started to berate Jess when Tristin stepped in.

"Am I interrupting something?" Tristin asked, walking toward Jess. "Hi, I am Tristin DuGrey."

"Jess Mariano, my pleasure," he replied, shaking the hand that was offered.

"Come into my office," Tristin suggested. "Amy, would you be able to bring us some coffee? Mr. Mariano, how do you take your coffee? Or would you prefer another beverage?"

"Coffee's fine," he replied. "Black."

"Can I spit in it?" Amy asked sarcastically.

"Excuse me?" Tristin asked, wondering if he misheard.

"Will it make it taste sweeter?" Jess asked.

Amy just shot him a scowl.

Jess focused his attention to Tristin right before the door closed behind them. "Feisty little thing you've got there."

"I do apologize for Miss Richards' behavior. She usually is very professional," Tristin responded to Jess. "Please, have a seat. Why is it that I know your name? I know I haven't made any real news recently. Who are you with again? _The Chronicle_?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Jess mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, I am cutting to the chase here. I am not interviewing you for the paper," he admitted. "What's up with you and Rory?"

"Isn't that a little too personal for you to ask?" Tristin asked, perplexed. "Are you working for Marc? No, no, no, don't tell me. You're Katherine's little dog doing her bid, right?"

"I wish. Why you married Rory over Katherine Lloyd is still a mystery. Were you stoned?" Jess asked, bewildered. He started pacing the room back and forth like a guard dog while Tristin stood stoically in front of his large desk. "Does she have dirt on you and this is some sick way to buy her off? I mean, the elder Gilmores are loaded, but it strikes me odd that she would marry you like a two-bit hooker."

"Out," Tristin said, offended. "No one speaks about my wife in that manner, understood?"

"Hey, pal, I am just a concerned party here," Jess huffed. "I just… Jeez, what kind of sick game are you playing? You leave a model girlfriend and the playboy lifestyle…."

"I was drunk, not that it's your concern," Tristin answered. He turned bright red before speaking again. "I hope you leave that off the record. We were both drunk and weren't the wiser."

Jess was dumbstruck at the revelation. Stunned, he pocketed his animated hands in his back pockets.

"Don't worry, I am not taking notes," Jess muttered, the act of apologizing eluded him. "I'll overlook the circumstances if you would be able to introduce me to her? Katherine, that is."

"You came here under false pretenses of being a journalist to ask me to set you up with my ex-girlfriend?" Tristin was getting really confused.

"No, I am a journalist for _The_ _Fly_, and I did come to interview you but not about your business… corporate, that is," Jess clarified as he shifted his weight, leaning toward Tristin like he was ready to leap if he was asked to. "But I'll be damned if I don't take this opportunity to score a date."

"So I've been had by a writer for some weekend freebie magazine I can pick up at the local bar?" Tristin leaned back on his seat and pressed a finger to his lips. "You are one sneaky SOB. With that being said, bravo. I've never met a man so brazen to harass me and at the same time ask a favor… At least, not to my face."

"We all have to swing the bat eventually, right?" Jess replied, surprised at how Tristin was taking the conversation in stride. Maybe there was still hope. "Okay, so back to my original question: Do you have more than just superficial feelings for Rory?"

"What's it to you?"

Jess flashed a crooked grin. "Man, don't you guys talk? Hmm, and I thought she'd talk about me around you more often."

"Conceited much?" Tristin raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, we hear a ton about you from her. Just thought she talked about us when she got home to you," he reasoned.

"Why should she?" he asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Jess asked. "Amazing."

"What?"

"Pot, meet kettle. I bet Rory knows more about you than you know about her!" Jess accused.

"Were you sent by Emily Gilmore?"

"The Nazi grandma? No," Jess replied.

"Lorelai?" he continued quizzing.

"I'm one of Rory's best friends!" he interjected. "Geez, you're bad at this game."

"Here's your coffee," Amy interrupted the argument, freezing Jess out by ignoring him completely. "Is there anything else you need?"

"That's it for now," he said, knitting his eyebrows together. "Jess?"

"Nope," he said, giving Amy a once over as she snorted by.

Once they were left alone, Tristin asked, "So why are you spying on Rory's behalf?"

"You tell me. Is there a reason why we should be worried about Rory?" Jess asked.

"Uh, no," Tristin said.

"So I guess we don't have anything to worry about tonight?" he hinted.

"Not that I know of," Tristin said with trepidation.

"Have you read Rory's speech?" Jess asked.

"For what?" Tristin asked. "I am not getting what you're implying here, bud."

Jess sighed and got up. "That's what I am afraid of." He pulled out a program from his back pocket. "Here."

"What's this?" Tristin thumbed through the small book.

"It's the Women's League Spirit Gala at the Four Seasons tonight. I hope you're familiar with the place. It's in the Cosmopolitan Room. I'd suggest you get your tux ready in about three hours. Oh, and do you know what Rory's favorite flower is?"

"Yeah," Tristin replied.

"Good. Make sure you get her a corsage or a bouquet for tonight," Jess said. He patted Tristin on the shoulder. "You can repay me later."

"I can, can't I?" Tristin said, chuckling.

"Yep, I'll come collecting," he replied, letting himself out. "Have a good evening, Miss Richards."

Amy looked up and rolled her eyes at him. "Bite me."

"I just might," he replied, winking back at her before disappearing through the doors.

------

Rory was glad that Tristin's car wasn't in the driveway. That meant she would be able to get a shower, get dressed, and hopefully be able to leave before he arrived for the evening. She ran up the steps, taking two at a time, and rushed to the shower. As soon as she got out of the billowing mist she applied her make-up deftly and fixed her hair into an elegant French twist. She slipped into the canary yellow Balenciaga dress Jackie hinted at earlier that day. Then she donned the three-inch heeled shoes on her ballerina-slender feet. Looking at the clock, she had less than an hour before Jackie and Jess showed up at her door to pick her up.

She fished out some essentials from her bag and put them in her evening purse. Giving the clock one more look, she headed out of her room while she inserted her earrings through her pierced lobes. She felt her shoulders relax as she realized that Tristin still had not arrived.

The door chimes went off. Smiling, Rory grabbed her shawl and headed for the door.

"Wait a minute!" she called out.

A smile painted her lips as she opened the door. What was behind the thick panel surprised her so much all she could do was giggle.

"Your chariot awaits," Tristin said, dressed in Armani as he held out a corsage of Stream Orchids and tea roses.

"How…?" Rory asked.

"A little birdie told me," was all Tristin said. "Now, let's get you to your affair, my princess."

****

A princess was what she felt like. Rory didn't know whether the Town Country vehicle they rode in was part of the Velocity fleet, but it sure was a marvelous ride. With the security window rolled up to give the couple some privacy from the driver's prying eyes and ears, Rory was giddy with excitement.

"I was supposed to ride with my friends, you know," Rory admitted.

"Well, actually, your friend called and said they were having car trouble and that I should take you to the Gala. They'll meet you there," Tristin said.

"Oh," Rory reacted. Just like that, the little hope bubble she was building popped. She knew it was too good for him to just know.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Just a little," Rory sighed, clutching the purse in her hand a little tighter than when she got in earlier. It was like she felt the speech neatly folded and checked three times prior to getting out the door would somehow fall out under the seat.

"You'll be fine," he said, enveloping her hand in his. The warm tingly sensation traveled up her arm and into the rest of her body, making her shudder in odd delight. She watched as a lazy smile broke on his face. "So why didn't you tell me about this award?"

Rory was about to say that she tried but the words had just gotten caught in her throat. She shrugged and said, "I didn't think you'd find it important."

"Next time, just request. We need the time together, even if it's in public," Tristin scolded lightly as he brushed her knuckles against his moist lips.

Despite the chaotic traffic, the driver was able to get them to the Four Seasons in a little under an hour, a feat that astounded Rory since it took her twice as long to drive the distance when she moved upstate.

The valet personnel opened her door, and she emerged. Flash bulbs flew and fellow reporters she once knew from working the trenches and lines hurled well wishes and greetings her way. However, when Tristin emerged, all attention shifted to him. Some were hollering, some were whistling. Tristin just waved his hand, and he put his arm around her waist. Part of her anxiety immediately left her shoulders when the attention was shifted, but at the same time, she became completely aware that she was a nobody next to him.

Ushered quickly away from the paparazzi, Tristin led Rory through one of the more magical lobbies she had seen in a while. The Four Seasons, known for its style, elegance, and mystique, was a sight to behold. Despite the numerous people milling around the marbled lobby, a feeling of reverence came upon her. Although she had been to Europe several times to enjoy its history and architectural structure, the Four Seasons did not disappoint.

Rory got her composure back as she noticed some bigger-named journalists, environmentalists, and artists loitering around. She said hi to Diane Sawyer as she passed her by. She smiled to Alicia Keys when she waved at her—or at least she would like to think she waved at her.

"Rory! Rory!" a muffled voice called out to her from the general vicinity of the bar.

Rory and Tristin turned and found Jackie and Jess heading toward them with drinks in hand.

"I hope you don't mind, but I got you your drink," Jackie said, handing over a lemon drop.

"Scotch neat?" Jess asked, handing over a cubed tumbler to Tristin.

"Thanks," Tristin said, reaching for the beverage.

"By the way, I am Jackie Newland, Editor-In-Chief of _Feminine Mystique_," Jackie introduced herself to Tristin. "This is my date, Jess Mariano of _The Fly_."

"And other freelance publications, thank you very much," Jess interjected.

"Nice to make your acquaintance," Tristin shook Jackie's hand and nodded toward Jess. "Jess and I have already… known each other from a previous encounter."

"I do thank you for taking care of our guest of honor here, Mr. DuGrey," Jackie batted her eyelashes at him like a Southern coquettish girl.

"Can it, Jackie. You couldn't be any more subtle if you had to," Rory said mockingly as she took a sip of her drink.

The evening bell was rung and the crowd was told to take their seats in the lavishly decorated ballroom. Helen McNaught, head of the Spirit Awards, got up to the podium to announce that guest speaker Patty Stonesifer, CEO of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, would be speaking to the group prior to the awards ceremony. After the presentation of awards, some dancing will close out the evening's events.

A live jazz band played in the corner as the food was served. The signature plate preparations of Wolfgang Puck adorned the plates of both vegans and carnivores alike. The tinkling of glasses and the subdued chatter made the event almost bearable until Rory's eyes were somehow diverted toward the ballroom doors only to realize that one Katherine Lyons was standing at the entrance in a Roberto Cavalli dress to die for. Wearing a fitted soft pink Ikebana Sheath dress, an outfit that was only sold in print in Saks and Nordstrom, the fabric clung to every hill and valley, accentuating body parts that no human being should be as lucky to be gifted in one package. The peek-a-boo lace that fell softly against her bosom made her lovely assets stick out more than usual. The outfit may have been considered gaudy if it weren't for the fact that she looked like a goddess draped in silk. Next to her was a statuesque model, someone fairly new to the Calvin Klein underwear ads, she recognized. Even at the male model's tall frame, he seemed diminutive next to the Manolo Blahnik wearing bombshell.

"Well, well, I didn't know she was a humanitarian," Jackie said in passing as she followed Rory's gaze.

Rory's eyes dropped to her plate the moment she knew she'd been caught. She didn't want Jackie to see her insecurities at this point.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the 32nd Women's League Spirit Award celebration…" Helen McNaught started the evening's festivities.

Rory decided that tonight was her night and no one else could spoil it.

***

Tristin's heart leapt when Katherine walked into the ballroom. He did not remember seeing her name in the program but that usually didn't mean much. He knew that for soirees like this, some paid advertisement was required for sponsoring, and she may have been asked to give out an award or do some face time for camera representation. He knew that she also volunteered her time at the Girls on the Run Foundation, but he didn't know whether something that she was affiliated with in Philadelphia would get her awarded in New York City.

"Go. I know you want to talk to her," Rory leaned over and whispered to him.

"Why would I want to do that?" Tristin asked inquisitively. He never knew he was that transparent.

Rory just stared at him with those big crystal blue eyes. "Because I can see that you would like to acknowledge her presence…."

"Rory," he chided.

"It's okay," Rory said, patting his hand on the table. "The presentation hasn't started yet. I bet Patty Stonesifer will have a lot to say about the Gates Foundation."

"You sure?" he asked.

She reached over for his left hand and touched the ring on his finger. The noise in the room filled the silence before she gave him a response. "Yes."

Not knowing how to react to Rory's question, he just nodded, averting his eyes toward the stage. He couldn't just be that weak. Rather than take her up on the offer, he sat there next to her, pretending that it was easier for him to be with Rory than run over to Katherine.

***

Like any other Cinderella story, there had to be a catch. The award ceremony had been on its way for a while, and Rory knew that Tristin was getting edgy. Despite the fact that Tristin didn't take her up on her offer for him to visit Katherine, she was aware that their façade as a committed couple could quickly crumble. Not far from the print journalism table sat Katherine. She was stunning in her Cavalli. One could tell that she was bored, and yet, she made the act of being bored look so fascinating. It was glaringly obvious that she was uncomfortable being there, especially when she was in such close proximity with someone she used to be intimate with.

Tristin fidgeted with the ring that adorned his left hand.

"I'm going out for a smoke break," Jess said, excusing himself from the table as he noticed Tristin's agitation.

"Let me go with you," Tristin volunteered, relieved that Jess was giving him an out. He needed a break from the glare he was feeling from the other side of the room, and the sudden pangs of guilt he was feeling sitting next to Rory.

"Page me when Rory gets her award, will ya, sweets?" Jess said, planting a kiss on Jackie's cheek.

For a second, the personal display of attention Jess had with Jackie glared as it contrasted what Tristin and Rory had.

"I'll be back soon," Tristin said, rubbing Rory's shoulders and kissing the crown of her head.

Seconds later, they were gone.

"Apparently, we should've left the boys at home," Jackie rolled her eyes and took another sip of her white wine. "So, enjoying yourself?"

Rory nodded. "It seems so surreal that Tristin is here. I know he's my husband, but part of me feels like he is intruding on our three musketeers outing."

Unbeknownst to them, Katherine had left her table to go search for Tristin.

***

"Glad you came?" Jess asked, handing Tristin a cancer stick.

"It's... different. Fun in a weird way," Tristin shrugged inhaling as the tip of the cigarette lit. "God, I haven't lit up in a while."

Tristin savored the burning feeling that crept up his nose and filled the back of his throat. The bitter taste was enough to make him realize that this public outing was harder than he'd thought. Having his work and home life separate made the facade workable. Seeing Katherine in public and having to pretend that he didn't have feelings for her anymore was harder than he'd anticipated. Surely, his affections toward Rory had blossomed especially when he needed some ungodly support from the crap he had to deal with at work but at that point, it wasn't enough to quench his desires for his former flame.

"Yeah, the girls have been trying to help me quit the habit," Jess shrugged, pushing the pack of lights into his breast pocket. "They sometimes just don't understand."

"I remember Rory picking on me about this habit in high school," Tristin chuckled. He took another drag. "Can't believe that I'm back doing this."

Katherine suddenly emerged from the heavy doors, pulling what seemed like a wrap around her shoulders. She casually looked up and smiled. "Fancy meeting you here, Tristin."

She walked up toward Jess and Tristin slowly and seductively. Jess dropped the cigarette in his hand after taking one long drag and crushing the lit end with the heel of his well-polished shoe. Tristin didn't bother putting out his stick.

"Really?" Tristin asked. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes," she chuckled, a tint of sarcasm gilding her laugh. "Watching you ogle me while you're with your wife is just delectable."

"What makes you think that?" Tristin shrugged, taking one last breath from the cigarette before all was left was the butt.

"I don't know," she whispered seductively, not minding at all that they had an audience. She licked her perfectly shaped fingertip and ran it down Tristin's chest. "Maybe the fact that I saw you glance my way once or twice while your wife's attention was on stage? Really, who does pay attention to drabble like that?"

"The ones that actually can spot good moderators and people that have something worth saying?" Jess piped up, getting upset that Katherine was digging on Rory, and watching Tristin not defending her.

Katherine rolled her eyes before looking at Jess. "Excuse me, have we met?"

"Jess Mariano," he piped up, extending a hand to her. She just stared at the outstretched arm and refocused on the Jess' face.

"I am sure you're a delight, Mr. Mariano, but this is a private conversation?" Katherine responded, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him like she was letting him in on a little secret.

Jess chortled and rubbed the tip of his nose. "Well, since you invited yourself into this little powwow my man and I were just having, maybe I should show you how much of a delight I can be."

Just then, the cell phone nestled in Jess' front pocket vibrated. He lifted it and saw Jackie's text message. "I guess we have to take a rain check on that, shall we? Our presence is requested in the ballroom."

Tristin and Jess exchanged a look before Jess said, "I shall see you inside."

As soon as Jess was out of hearing distance, Katherine whispered an offer Tristin could not resist.

"I'm not wearing anything underneath this outfit. I will be powdering my nose in a few and I was hoping you can help me find out whether I missed a spot," she offered in a seductive whisper. And just like that, she walked away.

Tristin took a deep breath, making the cold winter air burn his lungs. _Cool your heels_, he heeded. In slow, measured strides, he made his way toward the ballroom. The women's restroom was just a step away from the Cosmopolitan room.

He ran his fingers up against the cool walls, the palm of his hand against the unlocked door. Then he heard a melodic sound-- it was Rory's voice, reading a speech on how she came about her story. She talked about Lorelai, and her grandmother, Emily, and how they were strong, positive role models for her despite the circumstances they were forced to face in their lifetime. There was a kindness and reverence that carried in her voice as she spoke of how people like them encouraged her to look for other women to be such role models.

Tristin dropped his hand from the door and quickly walked toward the ballroom to catch the last of Rory's speech. As she wrapped up, the crowd stood on their feet and gave her a round of applause. She descended the steps and Tristin met her there with a bear hug that came out of nowhere.

"You're here!" she said, a big grin breaking on her face.

"Where'd you think I'd be?" Tristin asked, lifting her chin to face him. Slowly, he met her lips and gave her a kiss.

When they came up for breath, Rory hugged Tristin back, not knowing that Katherine was looking at them at a distance.

Tristin gave Rory one longing look before he bent over and whispered in her ear. "Let's get out of here," he said with much exigency. "But what about our company?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to read his eyes.

"I don't think they'll be missing us," he continued on as both scanned the room to watch the other attendants mill around and dance to the jazz band hired for the event.

"I think Jackie and Jess would understand," he said. "Come on."

Rory looked at him, wondering if he was teasing her. Was this something she would have experienced if she gave him the time of the day when he used to ask her out in high school? The rebel in her wanted to bust out but she herself wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

The chauffered vehicle pulled up next to them as they exited the Four Seasons. Not a second too soon, Tristin's hands and lips were all over her. The whole trip back home felt like one long petting session, ending up with them trailing their clothes all over the neatened house. The foreplay was coming to a peak when Tristin said, "Rory, I can't wait."

Rory pulled him close with his open edges of his shirt, pulling him on top of her as she said, "I don't want to either."

The realization of what had just transpired made them more acutely aware of their decision.

Their heat burned them fast and hard, leaving them panting on the steps leading to the bedroom. Rory closed her eyes, praying that her wanton decision was the right one. Tristin was praying that he wasn't making love to Rory just to get even with Katherine.


	11. Running In Circles

Rory rolled on to her back and clutched the sheet to her chest. Despite having her raw sexual tension relieved, a niggling sensation crept at the back of her head. She stared at the ceiling, thankful that the recessed lights didn't catch the quick rise and fall of her chest.

Tristin exhaled loudly as he rolled on to his back. "That was not what I was expecting."

"Hmm," Rory hummed.

"That," he said, "Isn't the usual reaction I get." He chuckled softly. "Pray tell, did I not meet or exceed your expectation?"

"You know that's not the issue," Rory replied, blushing as she responded. "You are more than adequate."

"That isn't boosting my ego, Gilmore," he teased.

"Stop fishing for a compliment. It's very ungentlemanly," Rory suggested.

"Oh, I see. You've gotten to nirvana, and I wasn't the one to get you there. I get it," Tristin egged on.

Rory thwacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. "Be serious."

"What could be more serious than this?" he asked, raising himself on one elbow to face her.

"The fact that we knowingly broke our only cardinal rule," Rory stated. She threw her arms over her head, almost regretting what she had done. Almost. "This... complicates things."

"Rory," he started. "Everyone expects us to be an Animal Planet special."

"Which one? The 'Black Widow Eats Its Mate' edition?" Rory retorted.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to a little nibble here or there," he hinted wickedly.

Another frustrated groan slipped past Rory's lips.

"Alright, what gives?" he finally asked seriously.

Rory sat up and thought about their predicament. How could she express herself without betraying her feelings?

"Because from my point of view, what just happened is normal," Tristin justified. "I am your husband, and I see nothing wrong in finding my wife so attractive that I want to bed her."

"That's not fair for you to say," Rory said softly. "Our arrangement... ."

"Is a contract I am very blessed that you agreed to fulfill," Tristin quickly responded.

"Religious now, are we?" Rory tried to lighten the mood. Tristin shot her a dirty look. "I'm sorry... ."

"Ugh, these are the moments that make me often wonder why I want you so badly even though you drive me to drink," he said, exasperated.

"Oh is that how you want to play this game? What about Katherine?" Rory got out of bed, pulling the sheets off the bed, walking the sliver of carpet on her side of the bed.

"What about her? Oh my God, you bat her name around like she's supposed to be a repellant!" he said, frustrated.

"But... ."

"No buts," he said a little harsher than he intended. "Get this now because I am not repeating this again. She and I are done. Finito. Ended."

"She did not hide the fact that she still wanted you tonight," Rory replied, panic suddenly eating her from the inside out.

Tristin rolled back on to the mattress and took a pillow to his face. He muffled his groan. He did not really know how to make her see reason; or if not, give her a reason to just commit and let go of his baggage- the kind that he alone could carry and do away with as he pleased.

He got out of the bed and took the duvet off the bed. As he wrapped the sheet around his waist, he wondered why they bothered with modesty when they were just skin-to-skin moments ago.

"Let me ask you, who shared my bed in the last hour?" he asked.

She feebly replied, "Me."

"Whom did I just make love to?" he asked again with urgency.

"You didn't have to call it that," Rory meekly countered.

"Just answer the question, Gilmore," he abruptly interjected.

"Me," she answered, her voice reverberating through the room.

"Remember that," he said, lowering his voice a notch. "Rory, I don't know what happened to you or who screwed with your brain, but I can guaran- damn- tee you that I didn't pretend for one moment that you were Katherine or any girl I've ever been with."

"You don't have to justify anything," Rory replied.

Tristin crossed the room and stood in front of her. He cursed her for looking so vulnerable in front of him. He romanticized about this moment with his high school self , and for some odd reason, now that the moment had presented itself, the memory and the moment are worlds apart and for reasons that were different from what he expected.

"Look, I don't regret what just happened, but I know you're going to have to go through your pro/con list," he said. "You are welcome to share my bed for the rest of the night. Heck, I'd be lying if I don't admit that I think I'd be missing you now that we've shared my bed."

He gently tilted her chin to have her face him. "I don't want to pressure you if you're not ready... yet."

He was a little disappointed when she smiled at him and yet, he saw that the eyes that stared at him didn't quite reflect the emotion.

Rory took his hand into hers and kissed his palm.

"I am not gonna lie, Tristin. I am out of my league here. I don't run with the fast crowd. I am still the dorky nerdy girl you've pestered in school. I am the girl that prefers movie nights over club-hopping, who is still a little afraid of the world because my mom isn't shadowing me. I rarely get drunk because the last time I got publicly intoxicated, I ended up wearing an orange vest courtesy of a court-mandated community service. But that moment in Vegas was a moment of weakness. But I couldn't allow Lane to drink alone. She needed a drinking buddy after all that she'd gone through with her band... But that doesn't matter now. I promised to help you. I am going to stand by you in any way you want me to. But I am only human, Tristin. I... I am trying to get to know you past the prejudices of Chilton and what _The Huffington Post _writes about you and your company.

"I've been burned badly because I took a chance. I don't regret what happened, but I am not hurrying back to relive that part of my life any time soon."

She let go of his hand and stepped away. She quickly grabbed the clothes that had been strewn in the heat of the moment. As she grabbed the doorknob, she said, "Thank you for letting me leave with some dignity, Tristin." She chuckled softly. "You'd think that doing the walk of shame wouldn't be as hard when you live in the same house."

"I take it you weren't in a sorority?" he said playfully.

Rory turned around and smiled genuinely back at him. "No, but in a fraternity of sorts."

"Good night, Rory," he said, as he rubbed the shadow forming on his chin.

"Good night," she breathed back.

Rory promised herself that when morning came, she would come clean. She felt a full confession was necessary. Unfortunately, the only priest, or priestess that mattered at this point was Lorelai.

"Nothing puts perspective to life like going back home," Rory thought to herself. Leaving New York traffic, Rory made it to Stars Hollow in less than two hours. Only two hours, and yet, the trip felt like a cross-country drive.

Her return to the quaint little town made her shiver despite the early summer making an appearance. Like the movie, _Pleasantville_, she felt like one of the characters that had just turned Technicolor while the town was still rioting in black-and-white. Who was she kidding? The maelstrom known as the Gilmore-DuGrey nuptials changed everything. Even her short affair with Dean Forrester did not make waves this big.

"Rory... Hi!" Luke greeted her when the bell to Luke's Diner chimed. He was surprised to see her that Friday morning.

Rory gave him a smile as she took a seat by the counter. "Good morning, Luke. Has my mom been over?"

Luke took a quick glance at the clock. He flashed a crooked smile at her. "Was that meant as a joke?"

"I still often wonder why she comes over when I know she has an Impressa J5 at The Dragonfly," Rory teased as she took a sip from the mug placed in front of her.

"Watch it," he teased back. "The one thing that thingamajig can't do is make coffee the way your mother likes it."

"True enough," Rory replied.

"Let me take care of these plates and I'll take your order," Luke excused himself before leaving the counter.

Rory's gaze followed Luke as he served up orders. She had a soft spot for the flannel-loving man. Growing up, he was the closest she had to having a father. He fed her. He answered her questions when her mother danced around the subject. He became a shoulder to cry on when she was infuriated with her mother. Their relationship has been unconventional, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

In fact, the relationship she had with Luke was one of the reasons why she was upset when her biological father, Christopher, came back to their lives. His return rocked the foundation built in Stars Hollow. Although ecstatic upon her father's arrival, Rory knew Luke's unrequited love at that point would remain that; Christopher would always remain Lorelai's one true love.

"So... Wow... How's the married life? Is... Tristin... that's his name, right? He with you?" Luke asked as he set a plate of toast, eggs and sausage in front of her.

"No, no. Tristin's not with me. He had to finish things up," Rory replied with a sigh. She tucked her hair behind her ear when Luke commented again.

"Whoa, is that the gross national product of Africa?" Luke stared at her rings.

Surprised by his comment, she quickly tucked her left hand between her legs. "Uh..."

"I'm sorry. That was glib of me," Luke muttered. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you," Rory mumbled.

An audible "Oh thank God" escaped Luke's lips when he heard the elder Gilmore enter the facilities.

"Oh my God, I need a gallon of coffee. Stat. If you can infuse the caffeine through IV, I would be so grateful. I'm late; I have a meeting with my linen guy... ." Lorelai spoke as she elbowed her way in through the breakfast crowd. "What? What are you waiting for?"

Luke just straightened up and shifted his gaze from Lorelai to Rory.

"Rory? What are you doing here?" Lorelai sat on a stool next to her daughter. "Is everything alright?"

"Uhm... Yeah," Rory replied, setting her coffee mug down. "I just thought I'd come visit... You know, talk, rather than leave cryptic phone messages and texting."

"You mean 'TTYL' isn't an acceptable form of communication?" Lorelai sarcastically responded.

"I do apologize. My life has been quite hectic recently. And at that, I do not recall receiving any notes or phone calls apologizing for rude behavior displayed during grandma's dinner," Rory retorted.

Lorelai was ready for a comeback but held back. Unbeknownst to the Gilmores, Luke was watching the mother-daughter volley words at each other like their verbal sparring was a tennis match. When no one responded, he threw his bar towel down.

"You know, I thought that I would be happy when you guys stopped arguing. Just goes to show that I actually missed it," he confessed before disappearing through the doors to check on Caesar.

Rory and Lorelai drank from their mugs in unison. Both were oblivious to the diner noise behind them.

"By the way, mom is upset that you didn't tell her that you won an award at some gala last night. She hated hearing from Bitty Bowman that you were being lauded without her knowing it," Lorelai finally spoke. "And I'm sorry. I should've called earlier to apologize to your Gap ad model looking husband. I should have been more supportive."

A beat later, Rory replied, "You think he looks like a Gap model? I was thinking Hollister."

Sipping from the mug, Lorelai responded, "Do I take that as an acceptance to my apology?"

Rory nodded.

Lorelai stirred a spoon in her java. "Good. I hate the fact that we haven't talked in a while. But before we can get on with our lives, I have to put in full disclosure that you can't blame me for my Margot Kidder moment. It's my job to be loony when it comes to you and your welfare... It's my job to do the stupid things for you not to repeat."

"I didn't come back for confession time, Mom," Rory said. "I came because I need your help in putting some perspective in..."

"Say no more," Lorelai said as she faced her daughter. She decided that Rory's impulsive visit was a good enough excuse to play hooky herself. "Come on. The meetings can wait. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

The short drive to the Dragonfly Inn was filled with small-town gossip, a recap of the drama at Richard and Emily's, and Lorelai drooling over the shiny bauble adorning her daughter's ring finger. Upon their arrival at the Inn, Lorelai announced that she had more pressing issues to deal with and everyone had to wait or do the Inn business themselves.

"Oh goody. The prodigal daughter comes home and we are left to take care of more presing matters," Michel responded snarkily.

"Hmm, bitterness like that is what's causing the wrinkles on your forehead to deepen," Lorelai replied without missing a beat.

Rory laughed at the quippy banter. This is what she missed: the comfort of the familiar. All of a sudden, she felt a little ache in her heart for forgetting the simpler things in life.

Rory decided to treat Lorelai to the new ice cream shop in town. The lack of customers that morning made the setting ideal for Rory's divulgence. Three cups of coffee and a large chocolate sundae later, Lorelai was given full disclosure of her daughter's personal affairs.

"Let me get this straight: you accidentally got married, you're pretty much held hostage in this situation due to some legal loophole, and now you've developed accidental Stockholm's Syndrome?"

"I am Patty Hearst to Tristin's SLA," Rory muttered. "Only you can prove to me that I am a soap opera waiting to happen."

"Better than the crap that's currently on TV. Well, maybe not quite _Real Housewives of Orange County_, but close!"

Lorelai nodded her head and took another sip of her coffee. "I never thought I'd see this day, but I have to give it to you, honey. You've rendered me speechless."

"You can't be speechless! I need advice! I need direction!" Rory started panicking.

"Why can't you just tell him?" Lorelai asked. "From what you've told me, he seems genuine. Anyone who has enough gumption to face our family is either certifiable or dim-witted."

"This just seems too much, too soon," Rory moaned. "I don't want him to think that he's indebted to me when we both screwed up. I also don't want him thinking that he has to settle with me."

"What makes you think that being with you is considered settling?"

"You have to admit, he and I really don't run around the same circles. He's the prom king kind. I'm the dorky bandmate," Rory said.

"Honey, love of my life, if you were in the band, I think music would be outlawed," Lorelai quipped. "Anyway, what makes you think that you don't have the right to belong in whatever world you would want to hang around?"

Rory bit her lower lip. "It's more complex than that."

"Really? I think you've convinced yourself that you don't have the right to be happy in a relationship, kiddo," Lorelai stated.

"Easy for you to say. You're married to your job!" Rory teased.

"The one thing I've learned in all these years is that you need to be happy with yourself first before you can really commit to a relationship. Neither your father nor Luke could give that to me during those moments in my life. I was hoping that when you were with Logan you would've learned that," Lorelai said.

"About that relationship... ." Rory said.

Tristin was infuriated and he didn't know why. There were multiple reasons that could explain how he got into this predicament and those reasons involve Rory. One was the unnatural way he gave into chivalry. Not imposing himself on Rory last night was now making him want her more than he thought he ever would. And now that she had left early in the morning before they could talk was giving him a panic attack. Was she having second thoughts about their roll in his bed?

If he was honest with himself, he knew that he should be infuriated with himself for being weak. After all, Rory was right. Before he and Rory spent the night together, he almost gave in to a moment of weakness when Katherine offered herself to him with no strings attached... or so he thought.

He looked at his phone. Seven messages: three of them were naughty text messages and the rest were threatening voice mails from his former girlfriend.

He ran impatient fingers through his short untamed hair. This was getting more complex than he thought.

One by one, he deleted the messages. Much that it pains him, he has realized that he had, indeed, fallen out of love with Kat. He might still harbor some carnal feelings for his former bedmate, but he felt that things had changed. He still was not sure if it was for the better, but it definitely was for the unknown.

He was used to getting what he wanted, and usually, when he wanted it. Last night's events had thrown him off his game. He kicked the wall hoping he could get some satisfaction out of the tantrum. Unfortunately, all he did was leave a scuff mark on the spot he kicked.

Grinding his teeth, he decided to call Rory. One ring. Two rings. Eventually, her voice mail picked up. Faking an airy voice, he left a message saying he just wanted to make sure she was alright and if they should go out for dinner that night.

Then, he decided to do the unthinkable. He was going to tell Katherine to back off.

He was on the phone with her when Amy walked in, leaving a folder on his desk.

"What's this?" he asked while the phone was ringing.

"The McCrae account. Mr. Lott has informed him that you were handling this file. Mr. McCrae would like you to call him back... ."

Tristin held a finger up to her to pause for a moment.

"Hi! Hey, I got your messages last night... Yeah, I... I understand... Thanks for the offer, but I would like to decline the invite. I will call you if the need arises, okay?" Tristin said before hanging up.

Looking at Amy, he asked, "Where were we?"

Livid. Katherine Lloyd was livid. It was bad enough that she was rejected last night. For a second, she was led to believe that Tristin still had feelings for her. That's what she got for relying on her oversized ego. Would things have changed if the guy sharing a smoke with him wasn't there?

She couldn't think like that.

But the humiliation did not end. She had to be bombarded with questions after the gala that evening as to what she thought when she saw her former flame and his current love interest that evening. Then there were the photos. TMZ was at her heels, hounding her and taking unflattering photos of her and her date.

And now, Marc Lott. Here. Pretending to dine with her when all he was really doing was berating her about her failure to prove that Tristin's marriage to Rory Gilmore was a sham. She didn't know whether she should curse or thank her phone for ringing during Marc's demeaning speech.

"I know you're not taking that call, young woman," he said through gritted teeth.

"Watch me," she said. When she was at the entrance of The Greenery, she responded cooly, "Tristin."

"Hi! Hey, I got your messages last night..." he started.

"Listen," she said in a clipped tone, "what you did to me was embarrassing. I don't know what I was thinking but you're despicable."

"Yeah, I..." he tried interjecting.

"I don't know what I was thinking last night but I think this is good-bye," she said, trying to hold back the bay of tears that are threatening to fall.

"I understand," he said almost automatically.

"Understand? Screw you," she yelled on the mouthpiece louder than she expected.

"Thanks for the offer, but I would like to decline the invite. I will call you if the need arises, okay?" Tristin replied cooly.

Katherine replied with a crude remark before terminating the phone call. She took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. The Maitre d' walked over to her and asked if he could assist her in any way. She asked him to hail her a cab.

She walked back to her table where Mr. Lott was still steaming at her for leaving the table mid-conversation.

"This was not our agreement, Miss Lloyd. I can always withdraw my contribution to your bleeding-heart cause," he said.

"You know what, Mr. Lott? Take your money. I don't need it," Katherine replied.

"I thought you wanted DuGrey back?" Marc Lott argued.

Katherine mulled over his query before replying. Surely, she wanted Tristin back. However, if she took him back, he would have to beg. Like a dog.

"I thought I did until I realized you wanted him more than I ever would. Let me know when the wedding's taking place. I'll make sure I don't send my RSVP," Katherine replied before leaving the old man gaping at her as she walked away.

-XX-

It was a little past ten when Rory finally got back home. Rory entered the house quietly. She was headed for the steps when she heard rustling from the living room.

She tiptoed toward the leather couch. She found Tristin asleep. The papers he once held had long since slipped off his grip. She smiled as she picked up the sheets and laid them on the coffee table. She was about to pull the throw blanket over him when he stirred.

"You're home," he muttered sleepily.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I didn't know my ringer was off."

"Hmm," he said. He stood up and pulled her against him. "I'm just glad you didn't run away and permanently hide."

"Why would I do that?" Rory asked, unconsciously wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Because I'm a hazard to myself?" he replied, resting his chin on her head, reciprocating her hug.

Rory smiled, not bothering to verbalize her response.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he said, nudging her toward the staircase.

Rory paused. "You mean our respective beds, right?"

"Only if you want," he responded. "But I was hoping you'd indulge me tonight."

"No hanky-panky?" she queried as her heart skipped a beat.

"Even if I wanted to, I don't think I'll have the energy tonight. So, no."

"Come on then. Let's get you to bed," Rory replied as she turned off the lights.


	12. Hello, Trouble

Tristin reached out still half asleep to the empty space on his bed, expecting Rory to be asleep right next to him. When all he grasped was air, he fully awoke and sat up. The bedside clock flashed half-past eleven. He thought the clock was broken. He hadn't slept past six since graduating from college.

"Rory?" he called out.

Silence.

He quickly grabbed a pair of boxer-briefs from a drawer and the closest pair of jogging pants he could find.

"Rory?" he called out again. Still his inquiry was answered with silence.

Tristin's heart sank. He didn't know what to expect after he asked Rory to share his bed. But waking up alone two nights in a row is starting to put a dent on his ego.

He half-hoped that she would somehow reciprocate the sudden inclination he felt toward her since she willingly shared his bed the night before. But part of him also wished that her departure were a sign of stopping the madness of their companionship that had been borne out of false pretenses and maligned loyalties. She had kept her part of the bargain. Now if only he could keep his.

Panic hit him when he realized that there was no coffee aroma wafting through the air. He quickly walked to her room only to find a kept bed. He double-timed down the steps as his eyes made a quick sweep of the quiet house. He reached for his phone at the charging station to call her when he heard the jangling of the keys from the garage.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Rory greeted with a smile.

Tristin said a silent prayer and tried to play it cool after his earlier panic attack. "Mornin'. You're an early riser today."

"Sorry. I meant to leave a note to let you know that I had an early meeting with Jackie," she said. "But I brought home breakfast... to be more precise, brunch."

Tristin grinned and took the Starbucks paper cup from her hand. "Double shot mocha?"

"Extra hot, just the way you like it," Rory replied smugly.

He took a sip and moaned as the liquid went down his throat. "Hmmm, keep this going and I just might hire you to replace Amy."

"Ha-ha, you can't afford me," she chuckled. "Oh, wait... ."

Tristin laughed. "Touché."

Rory walked toward the cupboard and took out plates to lay out the pastries she bought. "But keep talking like that and I might actually take you up on that job offer."

"Is that why you were out at an early meeting?" he asked before taking a bite off of his scone.

"Yeah," Rory replied as she replicated his actions. "Thanks to my disappearing act yesterday, I inadvertently missed out on the latest round on _Femme Fatale_'s fate. Apparently, Jackie and the board couldn't come to terms in regard to the magazine's future. The board wants to sell the magazine. Jackie wants to keep the publication going for as long as we can."

"What's the problem? Advertising? Subscription?" Tristin asked.

"Everything," Rory confessed, letting out a sigh. "Subscription and advertisement, however, are the least of our concerns. If nothing else, our non-subscription circulations have increased steadily in the last year. We've cut back on staffing and have tried increasing revenue by featuring certain kinds of articles and advertisements we didn't used to feature. But apparently, the belt-cinching we've been doing hasn't been enough and the board wants us to sell."

"Did you guys suggest any options?" he queried.

"Jackie offered going from monthly to quarterly. She suggested going online only, and even at that, I don't think we'd really be that profitable. Media content would be lost amongst the _Vogue_s and the _Maxim_s of corporate media," Rory continued on. "Sadly, Rodale and Conde Nast are offering rather lucrative offers to buy out the magazine. Jackie is afraid that the buyout would mean burying the magazine between _Sunset_ and _Women's Health_. Besides, the magazine is more than just health tips and fashion. It's about women's issues and global awareness," Rory argued.

Tristin smiled as he took another swig of his drink.

"What?" Rory asked, blushing.

"Nothing," he said, the lazy grin still on his face. "I think this is the most passionate I've see you in a while outside of the bedroom."

"Oh stop," Rory replied as she felt the blush creep to her ears and neck. Aware of her sudden state of self-consciousness, she left the table and busied herself at the kitchen's island. "I do believe in human plight."

Tristin stood up and followed her. "You know you don't have to convince your husband, Rory."

He reached around to tug on her arm and have her face him. He pinned her against the cool marble as he leaned toward her. "You're so selfless. Despite the continuous torture of the Chilton crowd, you found your own voice within the student government, rejected the cliques like the Puffs... ."

"The Puffs?" Rory asked, her heart skipping a beat as she felt his warm breath against her neck.

"A cousin was involved in the allegedly failed pledging," he said, still smiling. "I wonder if you would have turned Stepford if you had fully integrated into the Chilton brouhaha."

"Was that your idea of an ideal mate?" Rory fished.

Tristin reached out for a strand of her hair, twisting it around his fingers. "Not really, but I could be persuaded. Can you tell a Stepford to dress tawdry?"

"You don't have to be Stepford. You just have to be _Jersey Shore_ material," Rory chuckled.

"Gross, tainted, and loud. That's one GTL I don't need," he muttered, still seemingly fascinated with her tendrils. "You, on the other hand… ."

"Aren't Jersey?" Rory said with finality.

"Definitely not," Tristin said, straightening himself and extending his arms towards her. "It's either I've wised up or I've just gone soft."

"It's the mystique," she teased, giving him a quick wink as she distanced herself from him.

"Maybe," he said. "As your mother has pointed out, I am, at this point, only able to recite a litany of all things Rory Gilmore. As for what makes her tick… ."

"Isn't really much of a mystery, unfortunately," Rory replied. The playful mood ended. "I left Hartford, went to college, and became part of _Femme_."

"You must have made enemies, garnered a few admirers, broken several hearts," he said, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I made one hippo ballerina say ghastly things about me," she recounted. "And I met Jackie after a much-failed attempt at getting into print journalism."

"And the rest?" he asked.

"That would take at least two beers and the absence of all forms of entertainment to dredge up those memories," she half-joked.

Tristin was about to counter her statement when his mobile rang. He held up a finger to pause their conversation as he took the call. She saw a wrinkle form on his forehead. An exasperated sigh followed the disgruntled look. He muted his phone before saying to her, "I have to take this call."

"Alright," she said, but he was long gone when she muttered her answer.

His sudden inquiry left her wondering. Why would he want to know things that she, herself, preferred to forget? She was entitled to her privacy, wasn't she? Coward—she chided herself. He wasn't asking for specifics. Maybe he was just wondering if there was a semblance of the girl he once knew in high school.

She blushed at the memory. All of a sudden, the memory of that stupid Chilton dance made her feel like a naïve girl once more. Recollecting the fight between him and Dean was her first experience in the complexities of a relationship. She wondered if she actually never left that stage, suggesting that she was as emotionally stunted as she felt.

Obviously, her relationship with Jess was a non-issue. She didn't know to what extent Jess has afforded Tristin to know him, but the relative camaraderie between them several nights ago was enough for her to refrain from panicking.

Would things really be that different if she and Jess gave in to a what-could-have-been moment when she and Logan were having relationship issues?

What about Logan indeed?

The emotional sting she learned to ignore started pricking her again. Logan was her Achilles Heel. She thought that he was THE one after all the false starts and stops. God, just the thought of Logan just made her hurt all over again.

Confusion, anger, and sadness all rolled into one as her emotions swelled. She would like to blame stress from work and her newly formed reunion with her mother as the culprits for her mental state, but she knew better than that. She was no innocent bystander in her failed relationships. In fact, if it weren't for her inability to choose or rock the boat, she would probably be in a real and established relationship that did not rely on deception and sex.

And she damned well knew that the sex could sometimes come in secondary to a man who actually understood and accepted her for what she was.

She knew she had to come clean about her inability to get involved other than the make-believe world she and Tristin had conveniently formed.

Rory went back to the table to finish drinking her coffee and was putting away the leftover pastries when Tristin returned.

"Sorry about that," he sighed.

"S'all right," she said, tidying up. "Everything okay?"

"No, not really," he muttered, sitting down right in front of his tepid drink. He ran his finger on top of the plastic lid. "How are your skills in playing socialite-cum-tour guide?"

Rory sighed and rolled her eyes mockingly. "Do I have an opt out option in my contract?"

"'Fraid not," he said, scrunching his face.

"Can't get any worse than being married to you," Rory replied, trying to subdue some of her insecurities by teasing him.

"Ha-ha," he mockingly laughed.

"So how did I win the 'socialite-cum-tour guide' gig? You know this is going to cost you," she added, pointing a finger at him.

"A client was supposed to fly into Philly to finish some paperwork, but there's a storm brewing that would prevent his flight from landing there in the next three hours. The flight is getting diverted to LaGuardia as we speak and we need this contract," he stated.

"And my role in this is?" she queried.

"You have to play the dutiful role of the newlywed wife and pretend to be interested in the client," he directed. "Not that you don't play the part really well as of recent."

"Hmm," Rory replied to pursed lips. "I'm not used to having sycophants. Go on."

"I will be eternally grateful," he said, pleading.

"Let me check my schedule… ," she replied, reaching for her smartphone.

"Rory!" Tristin whined despite knowing that Rory was yanking his chain.

"Okay, okay, for you, I will," she said, a smile forming on her lips.

"Thank you," he gushed, standing up to give her a kiss on the forehead. "You know what? You're Superwoman. No, better yet. Wonder Woman. You don't get hampered by a cape."

"You just want to dress me in a bustier and go-go boots," Rory heckled.

"Now that's an image I won't pass up. Will you?" he said, half teasing.

"You best give me an invisible jet plane to seal the deal," Rory countered.

"Let me find a contractor willing to bid on the project," he said. And just like that, he walked toward her and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.

Two and a half hours later, Rory was trying to catch up to Tristin's long strides.

"So who's so important that this client has to be diverted here? The Sultan of Brunei? The prince of Monaco?" Rory asked as they walked through La Guardia airport.

"Honestly, I don't know him personally," Tristin replied as he shoved his hand through his hair. "I was faxed the profile of the client and told to 'handle the situation.'"

"Love the air quotes," Rory snorted. "So you're not even curious to find out who your mystery client is?"

"That's a loaded question," he muttered. He stared at the folder in his left hand. "I don't usually handle the smaller accounts but this client is part of a pilot project we're trying out and this hiccup is really making a mess of things. I don't want the program to fail, but as far as the script is concerned, I don't know what business line to feed him."

"Well why didn't you ask one of the Philadelphia people to drive over or take the train to New York to handle the account?" Rory asked.

"I have a suspicion that Lott wants this project to fail so he can say that this new approach to the business isn't worth supporting," Tristin replied, grimacing. "I would like to see that man eat some crow. All I know are the basics. He's looking to be part owner of a jet system program we're starting. Depending on how much he wants to put in as a retainer, several other businesses can buy into the jet like a time-share program. We rent them out on a schedule; they pay the service. Right now, we're doing a Europe-US route. He plans on flying in and out frequently from Scotland where he just inherited a scotch distillery. As for a Philadelphia crew being assembled to handle the account, Adrian is driving to New York as we speak to make sure there are no other setbacks."

"The timeshare system is rather intriguing. I wish I had that kind of inheritance," Rory said. "It's also good that Adrian will be around. I don't think I left a good impression the last time I saw him."

"Based on circumstances, I think he'd understand," Tristin said.

Rory let out an audible sigh. "So back to your client. Do we know if he is single? Married? Bringing in someone with him on this trip?"

"I didn't get that much information on the phone," Tristin reddened. "I'm not making this easy on you, am I?"

"I guess you should consider yourself lucky that you're married to a reporter. I am not as easily intimidated by lack of information," she said.

"Oh trust me, I do consider myself fortunate in more ways than one at this point," he sighed, frustration getting the best of him.

"So, let me see the file. Or is that a matter of security?" Rory asked for the folder as they reached the lounge area reserved for private flights. Rory was pleasantly surprised at the more luxurious accommodations afforded to the privileged frequent private fliers.

"Guess not," he sighed, handing her the file as they sat. A receptionist took their drink request and excused herself quickly.

Rory raised her eyes when she glanced at the profile in front of her. "Well, this is going to be a cakewalk."

Tristin looked at her in surprise. "It is?"

A smile spread on her lips. "It is. As long as you have an open account at Rick's Cabaret and easy access to bars downtown, you're golden."

"Can't be that easy," he said, taking the folder from her.

"Au contraire," she said. "Colin McCrae, son to William McCrae and Alice Davenport. Socialites, old money, you know the deal. Deferred his first year in college, lost another year between sophomore and junior year in an attempt to sail around the world. Well known for certain endeavors including, but not limited to, importing a milkmaid from Holland, holding conversations with words without the letter 'e', and trying to pass legislation on allowing interspecies marriage."

Tristin raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Wow, I'm impressed. Did you do an interview with this guy or something?"

"No," she stated. "Just the perk of being a Bulldog."

Tristin was about to remark when the sudden clanking of a door and a booming voice interrupted the conversation.

"My God. You're a sight for sore eyes," a voice down the corridor echoed.

Rory and Tristin looked toward the silhouetted figure. Tristin stood hesitantly while Rory beamed the stranger a smile.

"I hope not. Glasses would mar your good looks," Rory replied in jest as she recognized the voice and the lazy posture on the tall man.

"Then give this Bitzer a hug. It's been a while," the Australian requested brashly.

Without hesitation, Rory ran toward him and allowed herself to be twirled in in the air like a little girl.

"I would've brought you something if I knew we'd be seeing you," he replied after planting a kiss on her cheek.

"I think seeing you in a kilt is enough of a surprise, not to mention the impromptu meeting," Rory said as she glanced at the tall man's legs. "So tell me, when did you get to explore your Scottish's roots?"

"Oh there's always been a Scot in me when I can find a willing lass. And if not, the drink has kept me warm as well," he said with a wink.

Tristin appeared next to Rory, securing a possessive arm around her waist. "Oh, my manners. I do apologize. Finn, I would like you to meet my husband, Tristin DuGrey. Tristin, this is Finn."

"Enchanted to meet you, mate. Congratulations on the nuptials. Rory is a fine catch, if I may say so myself," Finn cut off Rory's introductions with a hearty handshake forced onto Tristin's hand.

"She is truly special," Tristin mumbled in surprise.

"I trust my special brand of poison suited you well as a wedding gift? You should have told me that you were going to 'jump the broom' or whatever people call marriage nowadays," Finn said, tapping Rory on the nose like a puppy being potty trained.

Rory and Tristin looked at each other in surprise. "Yes… yes, the vodka was very smooth. I think we polished the bottle off rather quickly."

"Ah, the only way to imbibe," Finn replied, cupping Tristin on the shoulder. Looking at Rory, he said, "I like this one."

"I will deny anything my friend has solemnly vowed," another voice chimed in. "Thank you for meeting us, Mr. DuGrey. I was made aware of the sudden change of plans," Colin was focused in making his introductions to Tristin when he suddenly caught sight of Rory.

"Rory?" he said in surprise.

"Tristin, it is my pleasure to introduce you to your client, Colin McCrae," Rory interceded, trying to make the introductions quick and without much pomp and circumstance.

The gentlemen shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"I do apologize for the sudden change in plans. I hope your flight was comfortable," Tristin said.

"Definitely comfortable," Colin replied, still apprehensively looking at Rory. "I was rather surprised, however, that we would be entertained by none other than the president of Velocity. Such a pleasure."

"I would be lying if I said that these were normal circumstances," Tristin responded honestly. "However, since we cannot control the weather, we would like to welcome you and hope we can make the proper arrangements necessary for a smooth transaction."

"I hope we are not putting you off," Colin quickly replied as he looked at Rory and Tristin.

"No, we just had to make a few adjustments," Rory said.

Colin finally broke into a crooked grin. "I'm sorry. I am just surprised to see you, Rory. How have you been?"

"Fine," Rory replied hurriedly. Her recollection of their last encounter made the situation rather awkward. Colin was trying to give her a subtle heads-up about Logan's extracurricular activities in Europe when she decided to stay stateside. When she didn't heed his warning and came to London unannounced, she blamed Logan and his circle of friends for not being upfront with her and the state of her relationship.

"Well, if you have all your belongings taken care of, we can direct you to… ."

Rory's words trailed as she saw another person round the corner before the tarmac door secured itself shut. Rory's back straightened, and she suddenly felt parched. Like an animal being hunted, she became still—so still she almost forgot to breathe.

"Baby, you okay?" Tristin asked.

A beat passed. "I guess it's too late to cash in on the beers," she muttered shakily.

Tired eyes looked her way. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes broke.

Rory was not quite ready when he finally greeted her.

"Hello, Ace."


End file.
